Not Unless You Try
by brigid1318
Summary: A revisiting of certain pivotal scenes from Take A Chance in Zoey's POV. Because clearly, I'm not ready to let go of this couple yet! Will include Zoey's reaction to Hank/ Beast, her kidnapping, and other scenes. Meant as a companion piece to Take A Chance.
1. A Sign

_Author's note: Hi everyone! So, this is the first one shot of Take A Chance from Zoey's POV. Obviously it's not going to make much sense unless you read that first, haha. I started off here because I wanted people to understand why she was willing to not only give her secret admirer a chance, but also reached out how and when she did, after Hank gave her flowers._

_This won't be an actual story, more just a collection of one shots for those of us (like me!) who aren't ready to let go of Hank and Zoey yet. Thanks for giving this a shot, and thank you to all of my readers who stuck by me through Take A Chance!_

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><p><strong>A Sign<strong>

"No charge for you today. Your drink's already been paid for," my godfather told me one Tuesday afternoon in April 1968.

My hand froze in the act of reaching for my money. I stared at him incredulously, taking in the way his eyes were twinkling with mischief- a direct contrast to the serious tone in his voice.

"What?"

"I said, your mocha has already been paid for," Billy explained, trying not to smile.

"You don't have to do that, Billy," I argued reasonably. "You know I have no problems paying here."

I owned thirty percent of Marceline's Cafe and Bookstore by virtue of my inheritance, but I didn't want special treatment for it. Considering the amount of mochas I went through, if my godparents stopped charging me for them they'd go bankrupt before year's end.

And I liked coming here too much to risk that.

It was peaceful and quiet, the perfect place for me to research my thesis. Being near Billy and Marceline, my godparents and owners of this shop, also provided me with some of the comfort I'd desperately needed over the past nine months.

My life had turned upside down when my father died in July, a week after I turned eighteen. It was almost as if the universe said, "congratulations! You're an adult now. You don't technically need your dad anymore, do you? Good."

Sometimes I could go for hours without thinking of him and feel almost like my old self. Not exactly carefree, but... less depressed than before. Other days it was a struggle just to soldier on and not fall apart from missing him.

But being here, around the people who were basically my aunt and uncle- the people who knew my dad and understood the ache I felt whenever I thought about him- helped me quite a bit.

"It wasn't me," Billy replied mischievously. He looked much too pleased with himself. "Someone else paid for it."

I blinked. "Who?"

"Can't tell you. He swore me to secrecy."

"'He?'" I repeated, completely awestruck.

Billy nodded, grinning widely.

I turned from the counter, glancing around the cafe.

There were six other customers in the shop. Two were women, and four were men. Three of the males I'd seen frequently at the cafe, so I assumed they were the most plausible candidates for whoever bought my mocha for me. One was in his mid-thirties, and another was likely in his late twenties.

The last man, who seemed to be in his late teens or early twenties... I'd actually spoken to him once, weeks ago. I thought he was quite handsome- soulful blue eyes behind black-rimmed glasses, short brown hair, quirky eyebrows and a kind face. Tall and slim, with a bookish air about him that I could certainly relate to.

But shy.

So very shy that he could barely look me in the eye as we talked briefly, before he'd gotten too tongue-tied and I took pity on him by excusing myself. He carried himself stiffly, cautiously- almost like he was afraid of frightening me when he kindly approached to help take a book I couldn't reach off the top shelf.

His tentative, bashful smile when I thanked him had given me butterflies.

Was he the mystery mocha buyer?

I studied him, willing him to look up and see me. Surely whoever bought my drink for me would at least glance up to see how his gesture was being received?

But to no avail.

The man was focused on the book he was reading- _A Room with a View_, my favorite novel of all time. I remembered telling him it was good when we talked and it looked like he took me up on the suggestion.

_I want it to be him._

The longing behind the thought surprised me. Though the other candidates for my "secret admirer" weren't horrible, and I was flattered no matter who'd done such a thing for me, I wanted it to be _him_. The sweet boy with the beautiful eyes who didn't let his crippling shyness stop him from doing something nice for a vertically-challenged girl trying to reach a book.

I sighed, because there wasn't really a way to tell who it was.

"Do you know why he bought this for me?" I asked Billy.

"He didn't say," he replied. "But I think he likes your smile."

"Keep this for a tip, then," I told him. "And please tell whoever it was 'thank you,' if you happen to see him around."

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks as I took my seat, trying to fight off a flattered smile.

The worst part about being a redhead- aside from being so sensitive to the sun that at times I felt like a vampire- was the way I blushed at the slightest things.

But this time it felt justified.

I, Zoey Dubois, the nerdy, borderline-crazy cat woman, had a secret admirer. The girl who spent so much time at school and work that her only real friend was her secretary. The girl whose own brother-in-law claimed would be a spinster for the rest of her life.

Someone thought I was worthy of a random gesture of admiration.

_Of course _I was blushing like crazy.

My secret admirer continued to buy my drinks for a month.

No matter how hard I tried, I could never figure out who it was. Occasionally I felt someone's eyes on me- a non-threatening, wistful gaze- but whenever I glanced up there was no one looking at me.

Eventually he also started buying the new books I got once a week in honor of my father, too. It was both highly flattering and incredibly perplexing, to have a stranger doing such nice things for me.

Why was he doing this? Did he ever plan to come forward and take credit for the kind gestures?

My imagination ran away from me sometimes, picturing my "secret admirer" declaring himself as such. Maybe I'd walk into the cafe one day and find him sitting at my usual table holding my mocha and wearing a shy smile, his blue eyes shining with hope.

And then we could get to know each other, and he wouldn't be at all intimidated (the way my brother-in-law, Nick, claimed any self-respecting man would be) that I was only eighteen and almost finished with a Ph.D., and was also the CEO of a relatively successful business. Maybe one day I could even tell my admirer my deepest secret, the one only Billy, Marceline, Olivia, and Gwen knew about me now that Daddy was dead-

But for all my daydreams, as time passed I started to realize why my secret admirer didn't reveal himself. It was mainly due to the evolution of my own feelings on the matter.

I started to feel... _optimistic, _for the first time in what felt like forever, after he bought that first mocha. It was mostly thanks to the imaginary scenarios that ran through my head almost daily after that. The endless possibilities that _today could be the day _buoyed me up, made me look towards the future with hope instead of wallowing in the past and in my grief. And even if my admirer didn't come forward today, there was always tomorrow!

It was the possibility, the mystery of it all, really.

Because what if he revealed himself, and we ended up hating each other? If my secret proved too much, and he became afraid of me? That dream of a happily ever after would be utterly destroyed. The first thing to cheer me up since my dad died would be gone.

If my admirer was coming from a similar place, I could completely understand why he didn't want to tell me who he was.

Until the day he got me flowers.

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><p>It was a Thursday- new book day- so I went straight to my table to set my things down before heading off towards the bookshelves for that week's purchase.<p>

There was a small bouquet of blue primroses sitting there, clearly meant for me.

Blue primroses.

I grew up listening to my father tell me the story of how he met my mother. How he fell in love with her from across the square in Saint-Evroult-Notre-Dame-du-Bois as his company marched through and then searched her out that night to talk to her. How he spent the next week or so romancing Maman, saving all of his chocolate rations to give to her and scavenging through bombed out fields for wildflowers that refused to let a silly thing like WWII stop them from showing their faces to the sun.

Blue primroses were her favorite. One of the only memories I had of my mother was of her smiling beautifully at Daddy as he brought her home a bouquet "just because" after a long day at work.

Their fairy tale romance had long ago formed my opinions of love. That and too many Jane Austen novels, I suppose.

"He said they made him 'think of you,'" Billy explained, leaning on the shop's counter next to me as I stood there, frozen, staring at the bouquet.

_Made him think of me..._

I picked it up gently, cradling the blooms carefully. "They're my favorite flower," I told him quietly. "I wonder how he knew?"

"I'm pretty sure it was a lucky guess," Billy replied. I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Yeah," I murmured, holding the flowers to my nose for a moment before I set them down. "Lucky."

But in my heart I knew luck had nothing to do with this. That little bouquet was like a sign- from the heavens, the universe, fate, whatever. A tap on the shoulder telling me that maybe, just maybe, my daydreams could come true, if only I was bold enough to take a chance.

I turned towards Billy. "Tell him thank you, please?"

"Will do."

My admirer had already paid for my new book, so after a small exchange with Billy about my upcoming thesis presentation I took my seat and tried to study.

But the primroses kept catching my eye, and every time I looked at them I couldn't help smiling over the rush of nervous excitement I felt.

Because I had an idea, prompted by the sign I saw in those primroses.

I was going to write my admirer a letter. Reach out to him, to see what would happen. And the vague futures that I'd been content to merely contemplate could now be actual possibilities, if he replied.

I felt a great swell of hope, even as I considered the possible negative outcomes of my overture along with the positive. It could certainly end badly, yes, but... how would I ever know, unless I tried?


	2. Secret No More

_Author's note: Thank you to NicoleR85, Rasha007, NotMarge, Cloudcity'sBookworm, partygirl98, and kmj1989 for the reviews! Seriously guys, thank you. I didn't expect that much feedback, and it's freaking awesome. I hope everyone likes the ending of Take A Chance tomorrow!_

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><p><strong>Secret No More<strong>

_"As for your conjecture on my motives for remaining anonymous, you are correct- but not for the reason you may think. You say you have a secret, Zoey, but so do I. Mine is so terrible that I fear I will never be anyone's fairy tale prince, let alone yours. And a wonderful person such as you deserves a happily ever after..."_

I sighed and put down the letter- written in a hand so neat that I suspected it took several drafts to perfect- from my secret admirer.

The ebullient joy I felt the moment I saw the missive, sitting on my table under a little bouquet of flowers, had faded to a sympathetic longing as I perused the last three paragraphs.

_What was I expecting? A little note saying "look up and to your left, I'm here?"_

Not really, but I suppose I'd hoped for something a little less... like a _no_. It was couched in kind terms, but it was a "no" nonetheless.

Despite that, a certain sweetness seemed to jump off the page, a candid sincerity that somehow told me that the way I'd reached out to him meant quite a bit to the writer. He genuinely seemed to like me, even though he knew and was embarrassed by how weird this whole thing was. He was just too afraid that I would reject him, and seemed convinced that I would.

My admirer was afraid of losing our "relationship," and felt that his secret- whatever it was- was enough to keep him from ever finding happiness. My heart broke for him, for whatever things in his life that had caused him to feel like that.

Surely he didn't deserve a lifetime of self-imposed loneliness?

"Zoey? You ok?" Bill asked, leaning against the counter to peer over at me.

I shrugged unhelpfully, too deep in thought to muster up a real response for his concern.

"Want to know something I learned today?" he pressed.

"What?"

"Your secret admirer is a genetics scientist, too," he replied.

A fellow geneticist?

I let out a little huff of laughter at that. The flowers, the mysterious secret we both had, the shared life's ambition... I decided right then that I wasn't taking "no" for an answer.

With that I grabbed a pen and stood, heading straight for the bookcases. I snatched a book at random for my week's selection, too focused on my goal to put much thought into it this time.

I hurriedly scribbled a note in the frontispiece of _Children's and Household Tales_ by the Brothers Grimm:

_"To my admirer-_

_It sounds like I'll have to convince you. But that's fine. I can be patient._

_Best Wishes,_

_Zoey"_

None of the heroes and heroines in fairy tales thought they would get a happy ending. The Frog waited around for a long time before he found a Princess willing to kiss him. But he never gave up, and he got his happily ever after eventually.

I felt that if I tried hard enough, I could make my admirer realize he deserved more than what he believed. He should have a happy ending, too.

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><p>The tentative delight I'd felt when my admirer started buying my mochas was nothing to how I felt when we started our letter exchange.<p>

For the first time in a year- since Daddy was diagnosed with stomach cancer- I caught myself smiling for no reason, or humming to myself as I looked over contracts at work. Gwen teased me mercilessly when she found out I had a secret admirer, but I ignored the good-natured ribbing.

I felt... better. Not _better_ better, but not as sad. Having something to focus on, to hope for, made me forget about my depression for longer stretches at a time. I was determined to draw my admirer out of his shell, no matter how long it took.

Sometimes I felt a pang of guilt over my new-found distraction. Was it too soon to feel this way after my father's death? Was I a bad person, or was it right to move on from my grief?

Daddy never remarried after my mother passed away. He never even _tried_ to find someone else, so I can't exactly say he was a shining example of getting over a death.

It kept me up at night sometimes, but I wanted to believe that my father would've wanted me to move on and live my life. He'd always wanted me to be happy. Surely that hadn't changed with his death?

I took solace in that notion, along with the fact that both Billy and Marceline were encouraging this strange relationship, even refusing to divulge who my admirer was and facilitating our letter exchanges. They obviously believed it was alright for me to move on, though of course a part of me would always miss my father.

My godparents were so supportive- that's why it was ironic when the biggest shift in the relationship between my admirer and I was thanks to the despicable Nicholas Grey.

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><p>"Hi, Nicholas," Marceline called out.<p>

I glanced up to see my brother-in-law enter the shop and instantly became wary. We were barely civil at the moment, thanks to that vacation to Colorado Nick could suddenly afford to take his family on rather than paying me rent.

Nick grunted and turned towards me.

"Hey, Nick. What's up? Are Chloe and Livie ok?"

"They're fine," he replied testily. "I'm coming to tell you to stay the hell away from my family. I catch you in my house again and I'm calling the cops."

I felt all of the blood drain out of my face at the thought.

Stay away from Olivia? My seven-year-old niece was my favorite person in the whole world. She was a mutant, like I was. I constantly worried about her revealing her telepathic powers to her parents, who I knew wouldn't understand. And then Nick refused to let her go to school because of his horrible chauvinist attitude.

Staying away from Olivia would hurt us both unbearably.

"What? Why?"

"Some people came by last night to try to enroll Olivia in a school for gifted children," Nick explained.

"What does that have to do with me?" I asked incredulously.

"Women don't need to go to school," he said harshly. "You've filled Olivia's head with all of this garbage of gender equality and now she's throwing a fit. She wants to be just like 'Auntie Zoey.' My daughter doesn't need you putting ideas like that in her head. You're an unnatural creature and I don't want you around Olivia anymore."

For a moment all I wanted to do was cry in frustration. He was just so _wrong_, the way he treated women. And he was going to punish us for daring to challenge his moronic world view.

Marceline came out from behind the counter just then, in a towering rage.

"How dare you say that to her?" she snapped, getting in Nick's face. She was much better at confrontation than I was. "You know Zoey owns that house and doesn't even charge you rent. Now, this is not the place to have this conversation. You need to leave, now."

"Why would I? I should own this place-"

I stood up, my face burning.

It all came back to how much Nick hated me for my "unforgivable sin" of inheriting everything from my father. Not only was I a woman of means, but Nick had been living on my charity for months now. It festered like a wound to his overweening pride.

"'Should' is the operative word in that sentence, and it's only in your opinion," I said. My voice was calm, but I wanted to scream at him. "You know I'm part owner of this shop."

"Your father was an idiot. He should have never left his money to you-"

I saw motion behind Nick, someone standing up and approaching. Who-?

"Get out," Marceline ordered flatly.

"I'd like to see you make me," Nick taunted.

"Sir, Mrs. Rivers would be well within her rights to call the police and have you removed from the premises. You're creating a disturbance, and I suggest you leave now," the man behind him said calmly.

My stomach did a somersault. It was the tall boy who I wanted to be my secret admirer! He'd apparently overcome his shyness to come to the rescue of a damsel in distress.

_Oh thank heavens, chivalry is not dead._

Nicholas whirled around, ready to tell him off for interrupting, but immediately backed up a step.

The boy's normally kind face was fierce right now, and a barely concealed righteous anger radiated off of him in waves as he glared down at my brother-in-law. He was lighter than Nick, but it was clear from his expression that he was not one to be trifled with.

Nick clearly received the warning, showing a rare flash of common sense. "Fine. We'll talk about this later," he told me coldly. Then he left, slamming the door behind him.

The three of us immediately relaxed.

Marceline turned to the boy, looking relieved. "Thank you, Hank," she said, patting him on the arm as she moved back towards the counter.

Meanwhile, my heart threatened to leap out of my chest. Could it be-?

"No problem, ma'am," Hank replied uncomfortably, immediately reverting back to quiet politeness now that Nick was gone.

Hank.

Hank, as in "H." Marceline obviously knew him a little. And, though he was obviously a rather diffident person, as soon as he saw I was being verbally attacked he jumped up to help. Like he cared about me...

_It's you! You're my admirer!_

I felt like dancing, or maybe grabbing Hank and kissing him all over his adorable face. My wish had come true, it was him! And he was handsome, intelligent, sweet, _and _chivalrous! He was-

_Don't scare him off._

I immediately composed myself. Hank was obviously very shy, so throwing myself at him probably wasn't the wisest move. No matter how much I wanted to.

"Thank you, for helping," I said, smiling at him.

"It was no trouble," he replied modestly.

He looked so afraid that I thought he might be ready to run away from me at any moment. Was he worried I wouldn't like him? Oh, Hank...

"I'm Zoey Dubois," I offered, holding out my hand.

A tingle ran down my spine as our skin touched and he returned the gesture. His hand was almost overly-warm, like he was very nervous. It made me want to hug him and tell him not to be scared- he was wonderful, no matter what he thought of himself.

"Hank McCoy."

I smiled at him, and his bashful, sweet answering grin set off a storm of butterflies in my stomach.

"'Hank' as in 'Henry?'" I asked.

He nodded.

"So my first guess was right?"

"Yes," he replied, not bothering to pretend ignorance of what I was referring to.

"Will you sit-?" I began hopefully, gesturing to my table.

But then I stopped and pondered that for a moment, staring at my toes. I wanted desperately to speak to Hank, to get to know him. But at the same time, I knew this wasn't fair to him. He wasn't ready- this incident had forced his hand much sooner than he wanted, and I wasn't going to make him.

I looked him in his big blue eyes and smiled. "I can be patient."

His expression... he looked thankful, and wistful, and admiring all at once.

It just about tore my heart out, how much this man cared for me already, how much effort all of this had taken from him. But he had tried anyway.

"You're wonderful," Hank whispered fervently, before hurrying away.

Somehow, I had a feeling it was the other way around.


	3. Explanations

_Author's note: Thank you to Rasha007, Jinxofthe2ndLaw, Cloudcity'sBookworm, guest, Dark Lord of the X-Men, partygirl98, kmj1989, and NotMarge for the reviews! _

_I got a lot of questions of "what's next?" on that last chapter of Take A Chance, so I thought I'd put it here.__ I've been writing another Hank/OC story for my own entertainment that starts mid-DOFP and goes beyond. Hank and Zoey's love was as easy as breathing, but this other OC is a feral and kinda a pain in the ass but he falls for her anyway. __I've also been seriously considering the idea of a Lily/James Potter fic from Harry Potter, going through how they went from "enemies" to being in love and dying by Voldemort's hand. I was also thinking about writing a cute "McCoy kids" short story. I'd love to hear people's thoughts on everything._

_Until then, I'm going to continue on with this story. I hope you guys stick around!_

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><p><strong>Explanations<strong>

The next afternoon I flew over to the house to talk to Chloe and Nick, as I told Marceline I would do.

It was always "the house" to me now. Not "home," like it used to be, but I outright refused to call it "the Grey house." _I_ owned that house, and though I doubted I would ever be able to live there again myself, I wasn't going to budge on giving Nick ownership. Even in my own thoughts, on principle.

I tried not to think about that as I moved through the air as a nebulous ball of heat, catching one wind current or another to push myself forward. I would have to face Nicholas Grey all too soon, so I felt I might as well enjoy the journey there.

Being in this state- let alone traveling this way- used to terrify me.

The first time I ever shifted had to be one of the most traumatic experiences in my entire life. I got so angry because Marceline refused to let me eat raw cookie dough ("you could get sick, _ma petite!_" As if an eight year old has that kind of foresight) that I stamped my foot and just... _dissolved_.

I'd already accidentally set a few things on fire at that point, though I hadn't told anyone out of shame. It was scary, and I had no idea what was happening to me. I hid it from everyone until that day I disappeared.

Marceline screamed when she saw me _literally_ fly to pieces. I honestly thought that I was dying.

It took almost an hour for me to calm down and figure out how to "reassemble" myself, pulling the molecules that made _me_ back together into cohesion.

And then my godmother held me while we both sobbed in relief and fear that it would happen again.

I was alive, yes. But I was also a mutant.

Together we told my dad and Billy what happened when they got back from their fishing trip, and the parental figures in my life agreed that it was best if no one else- not even my own sister- found out what I was.

"There's nothing wrong with you, honey," Daddy said earnestly. "But- people won't understand, ok? They'll think you're dangerous."

Dangerous.

It was the first time in my entire life that I felt like my father was ashamed of me. Because even though he didn't say it, I _was_ dangerous. I could start fires with my mind and I couldn't control my abilities at all. At one point I even almost burned our house down.

After that incident Daddy and I worked together to help me learn how to control my powers.

It was all about focusing, feeling the molecules in the air and exciting them until they ignited. I even learned to enjoy dissociating myself into heat, being able to fly and that feeling of limitlessness when not bound by an earthly body.

And if it weren't for my father I-

I stopped that thought in its tracks as I reassembled myself on the walkway to the house. It was time to focus on convincing Nick and Chloe to let Olivia go to this school, the one I suspected was for mutants. I didn't want her to go through the problems I had growing up. It was already hard enough for her...

"Z-zoey!" a male voice called out quietly behind me.

I muttered a word I _really_ hoped Olivia never heard me use. In my distraction I hadn't even noticed if there were people nearby when I pulled myself back together.

I turned around... And saw it was Hank, along with a rather avuncular-looking man in a wheelchair.

My abject horror turned into more of a wary surprise, seeing him there. I had a strong suspicion that Hank was a mutant, too- call it intuition, but it made sense that his secret would be the same as mine.

And if he wasn't... I hoped that if I stayed cool and calm and pretended there was nothing out of the ordinary going on, perhaps he would doubt himself if he actually did happen to see me materialize out of thin air.

"Hank? What are you doing here?" I asked.

And then it clicked.

"Wait- you were listening in to Marcy and I, weren't you?"

He nodded guiltily.

_"And you can speak French?"_

_"Oui."_

I couldn't decide if I was mad at him for eavesdropping so blatantly or amused that we had yet another thing in common. So instead I turned to the man in the wheelchair.

"Are you the mentor who made Hank get out more?"

"I am. Charles Xavier at your service. I'm the headmaster at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters," he explained.

The headmaster at a school for "gifted" children... and Hank was with him. Had Hank guessed that Olivia was a mutant from the few times I'd brought her by the cafe?

He'd already proven himself to be quite observant. And nosy. So if he overhead me speaking to Marceline about how much I worried for my niece... Perhaps he'd directed Mr. Xavier to speak to Nick and Chloe?

"Did you know Hank can speak eight languages, actually?" Xavier offered brightly, interrupting my train of thought. "And did he tell you he graduated from Harvard?"

I nodded.

"At the age of fifteen?"

Hank's cheeks turned adorably scarlet at this admission- even his ears turned red from embarrassment. He was a humble genius, then. Probably much smarter than I was, something that I found quite attractive. I'd never really met anyone like that.

And on top of that, he was too cute for words.

I felt a faint flutter in my mind as the thought ran through my head. It reminded me of that sensation you get when you feel like you're forgetting something- an appointment, a face that's familiar but you can't quite recall why. I always got that feeling when Olivia was reading my thoughts.

Xavier grinned, making my intuition flare. Was he-?

"Charles, please stop it," Hank pleaded, obviously referring to the listing of his accomplishments.

"What? I know you're too modest to say these things for yourself, and someone has to tell her," Xavier retorted.

Hank sighed and turned back to me. "Zoey, may I speak with you alone for a moment?"

"Yes," I replied, glancing at Xavier again. Was he just going to sit there? "Come with me."

"Don't worry, I'm fine waiting by the car."

Another response to something I hadn't voiced aloud. I eyed him suspiciously as I beckoned to Hank, leading him to a small gazebo in the front garden.

"He's a telepath, isn't he?" I guessed, sitting on a bench.

I gestured that Hank sit as well. He did, hesitantly, like he was trying to decide how close was too close for comfort. Again, I had the urge to hug him over his awkwardness.

"Yes. How did you know? Because you're used to feeling Olivia in your mind?" he asked.

I stared at him.

It was one thing to _wonder_ if Hank had figured out that Olivia was mutant. It was quite another to hear it confirmed.

Was it because he was so intelligent and focused on me that he'd gathered this information? Or were Olivia's powers obvious to anyone who who paid the least bit of attention? The very thought horrified me.

Hank shook his head reprovingly, like he was frustrated with himself. "I'm sorry, that was impertinent. I know that you're very protective of her."

"Yes," I agreed tensely.

"You're probably wondering why I'm here," he offered, looking uncomfortable again.

"Yes," I replied.

I tilted my head slightly, trying to telegraph my curiosity so he would continue.

Instead of speaking though, Hank just stared at me with those big baby-blues for a long moment. Not in a creepy way or anything- more like he thought I was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. The frank admiration in his gaze made the heat rise to my cheeks.

"Well, a few weeks ago, I watched you scold Olivia for trying to find out who your admirer was from Mrs. Rivers," Hank explained. "I guessed that Olivia was a tactile telepath. And then afterwards, I overheard you speaking to Mrs. Rivers about how you worried over your niece because of her gifts."

He looked sheepish for admitting to eavesdropping.

"I'm so sorry for the intrusion- my sense of hearing is very good, and I couldn't help it," he blurted out. "But I wanted to see if I could help Olivia somehow, so I asked Charles if he could speak to your sister and brother-in-law about your niece joining our school. I thought he could help her learn to control her telepathy."

Hank seemed to hold his breath, waiting for my reaction.

I couldn't be angry with him, I decided. Sure, his methods weren't the best, but his intentions were pure as he anonymously tried to help someone who was dear to me.

Actually, it reminded me a lot of Mr. Darcy helping Lydia because of his love for Elizabeth Bennett in _Pride and Prejudice_.

"That was very kind of you," I told Hank, instead of reprimanding him. "Thank you."

He shook his head quickly. "I didn't mean for it to have such negative consequences for you. I'm sorry."

"Please don't apologize," I assured him, "you were only trying to help. I would like Olivia to go to this school, if possible. It's for mutants, isn't it?"

He nodded.

I took a deep breath, deciding to make myself vulnerable.

The fact that Hank knew about mutants too, and actually worked for a school for them, gave me hope. Maybe he could tolerate my being a mutant, too? Even if he wasn't one himself, as I suspected?

"I was thinking about how you said you had a secret, just like me," I began hesitantly. "I have a feeling it's because you're a mutant, too. Like I am."

I looked at him hopefully.

"I am a mutant, yes," Hank replied. The admission seemed to pain him. "But my secret is more than that. I've... I've known you were a mutant for quite a while now. Since the first time we spoke, months ago. I just don't know what your abilities are."

I blinked. "How did you know?"

"Mutants smell different from humans," he explained reluctantly. He sighed and shook his head again. "I'm not helping my own case. I must seem like a creepy stalker to you."

He looked so nervous and genuinely contrite- I could see how much it cost him to admit these things to me. My heart melted, watching him try so hard to reach out. I felt compelled to make him feel better.

"I don't know. I haven't run away yet, have I?" I teased, smiling at him.

Hank looked a little dazed. Really, he was doing wonders for my ego.

"I'm still here."

"Yes, you are," he agreed, like he was amazed over that fact. He flashed one of those butterfly-inducing grins before becoming serious again. "Would you like me to help you convince your brother-in-law to let Olivia go to Xavier's?"

"I hope I won't need the help, but please come in just in case," I replied.

Hank nodded and stood, holding out a hand to help me up.

_I knew you were a gentleman,_ I thought happily.

I couldn't prevent the smile that crossed my face as I looped my hand in his elbow. He grinned bashfully as we started walking back to Xavier, arm-in-arm. His smile seemed to light up his boyish features when he did that.

But I did wonder why he refused to show his teeth when he smiled. Was he embarrassed by them, or was there another reason?

"Can I ask you something?" Hank asked quietly, glancing down at me. I raised my eyebrows, telling him to ask away. "Are you glad that it was me, or would you have preferred someone else as your secret admirer?"

My face warmed immediately. "I was hoping it was you," I replied. "You're very cute, you know."

The blush that rose in his cheeks just made him seem even cuter.


	4. Stand Your Ground

_Author's note: Thank you to NotMarge, partygirl98, Cloudcity'sBookworm, kmj1989, and anonymouscsifan for the reviews! I'm glad you guys are enjoying seeing some of this stuff from Zoey's POV. It's starting to become clear why she was so willing to give Hank a shot, right? _

_I know it seems like I'm doing practically every chapter right now, but it won't always be this way. The big point of this fic was to give you guys insight on what was going on in her head at some very crucial moments, and there were a lot of those in the early days, you know? I don't have a set number of planned chapters just yet, but I am enjoying reading through Take A Chance in its entirety, haha._

_I posted a "McCoy kids" one shot called A Fine Summer's Day, if anyone cares to check that out. I won't be doing a big story for them any time soon, though I wouldn't completely rule out to possibility. Until then, I may do one shots if a good idea pops in my head._

_I have a feeling the next multi-chapter fic I'll do will be "Jilly." Right now I'm researching the heck out of it, because I want to be as canonical as possible. Yeah... I'm calling rereading Harry Potter "research." ;-)_

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><p><strong>Stand Your Ground<strong>

It took my sister so long to answer the door that I was tempted to pull out my key and open it myself. But I didn't, because I feared my barging into the house unannounced with two strange men would be the _opposite_ of helpful.

Chloe finally opened the door, saw who it was, and promptly tried to shut the door on my face.

_Ah. It's going to be one of __those__ days._

For all that we were adults now, sometimes our relationship just devolved back to when we were little kids. Back when I would come crying to my sister that I missed Maman, and Chloe would scream that I couldn't even remember our mother because I was too little when she died and kick me out of her room.

This was definitely not the first door Chloe had tried to slam in my face.

"Hey! No you don't," I snapped. I stuck my foot in the door jamb and threw my shoulder into the wood to keep her from closing it on me. "Let me in, Chloe."

"Nick says you can't come in here," she replied, her pretty blue eyes wide with fear.

Nicholas Grey.

I _detested_ that man- I had a sinking suspicion that he hit my sister when no one was around. Unfortunately I couldn't get Chloe to admit it, even when we were on relatively friendly terms.

"Nick also said that we would talk later, and here I am," I reasoned. "Ready to talk."

"Fine," Chloe relented after a moment. Her gaze shifted over to Hank and Xavier as she opened the door further. "What's that man doing here again?"

"He's here to help Livie, I promise. Let him in, please."

My sister frowned suspiciously, but allowed them to follow me inside.

I felt both relieved and aggravated by her quick capitulation. Chloe was so easily led and bullied into everything. Even though it was to my advantage right now, I found myself wanting to her to stand up for herself.

I used her preoccupation with giving her new guests the evil eye to send a little bird made out of flames up to Olivia's room. It was a signal between us for her not to come out of her room even if she heard my voice downstairs. A "grown up" talk was happening.

"My husband already spoke with you," Chloe announced huffily once Hank and Xavier were inside. "We don't think our daughter needs to go to a special school. She's a girl. Why waste time on education?"

_Why hello, Nicholas. I had no idea you were dressed up as my sister today._

_"'We_' or '_he,_' Chloe?" I demanded, watching her closely. "We were raised in the same house. Daddy told us we could be anything we wanted to be. Just because you were content to be a wife and mother doesn't mean Livie will, too."

Before my sister could reply, Nick shouted from the living room, "Who's at the door?"

"It's Zoey. She-"

"What?" he snarled.

I glanced over at Xavier and Hank, who was watching me anxiously. I really, really hoped I wasn't about to scare him off.

"Here we go," I muttered.

_Ready for battle._

Nick walked into the foyer looking like he was about to explode, his eyes completely focused on me. "I told you to stay out of this house," he snapped.

"You said we would talk later, and here we are," I retorted calmly. "We need to discuss this. Livie needs to get-"

"The only thing my daughter needs to learn how to cook and clean."

"It's 1968, not _18_68," I argued. "This is ridiculous. Your daughter deserves to have options."

"I'll thank you not to tell me how to raise my child, considering your lack thereof and the fact that no man is ever going to want an unnatural creature like you."

We'd had this argument a million times before. I would try to bring up sending my niece to school, Nick would refuse. I started teaching Olivia how to read, her dad blew a head gasket. Round and round we'd always go, until he threw that in my face.

Because secretly, I wondered if Nick was right. The only dates I'd ever been on were with those men he set me up with, back when he was scheming to get my inheritance. It certainly served to make my depression worse, I can promise you that.

I was scared no one would ever want me. Daddy always told me to focus on my education (honestly, after Chloe's teen pregnancy I think he would've been content to see me single until I hit thirty), but then I'd hear Gwen, or the other ladies at school, talking about their dates and feel a pang of envy.

The only boy I'd gotten the guts to ask out had politely declined, saying he didn't like redheads. Gwen wanted me to set his underwear on fire and had gone on for days about how I was too smart for that toe-rag anyway, but that only made me wonder if that was exactly what my problem was with boys in general.

That maybe... maybe Nick _was_ right.

But I wasn't going to take it today. Not with a boy who knew exactly how smart I was and who liked me anyway standing right there.

I laughed bitterly. "You think I'm going to end up a spinster because I'm eighteen and unmarried? News flash, Nick, people normally don't pop out kids at sixteen anymore. And besides," I continued, spitting out the resentment I'd carried for months now, "a few months ago you were trying to set me up on blind dates, because you were 'worried' men were going to go after me for my money."

I got closer, getting right in Nick's face. "So which is it?" I demanded. "Am I going to die alone or have a gold-digging husband? Or are you just trying to distract from the fact that you know that at the age of seven your daughter is smarter than you will ever be?"

"Don't speak to my husband that way," Chloe interjected.

_You can stand up for him, but not yourself? Oh, Chloe..._

I rolled my eyes. "Why do I bother with either of you?" I muttered.

And then I pulled out my weapons of last resort, which I'd gotten from the courthouse today. Thankfully Gwen's father was a judge, and he helped me out. I took out the envelope from my bag and practically threw it at Nick.

"Time for blackmail. This is a court summons. Two, actually."

"W-what?" Grey sputtered.

"You've been living in this house for eleven months without being charged rent. One of those summons is for a mediator to figure out a good price for you to start paying me. If you can afford to go on vacation to Colorado you're obviously not hurting for money as bad as you claimed when my father died," I explained. "And the other is for an inquiry as to why you haven't sent your seven-year-old daughter to school. She should be in first grade by now, and yet she's never set foot in a classroom."

I glared at them both. "So here's how it's going to be. You send Olivia to Xavier's and I'll make both of those summons disappear, or you don't. And I'll stop letting you suck off my inheritance on top of getting you thrown in jail for educational child neglect. What's it going to be?"

What took place next happened so fast I could barely comprehend it.

Nick's hand came up, like he was about to slap me-

And then Hank was there, gripping Nick's wrist like he was very tempted to crush it and practically shaking from barely-repressed anger. His big blue eyes were flashing with fury as he glared down at my brother-in-law in disgust.

For a moment I thought I saw his eyes turn... gold?

But then I blinked and decided I probably imagined it.

How did he even move so fast? One second he was several feet away, and the next he was there. Was his mutant power super speed?

"Who the hell are you?" Nick snapped, futilely trying to tug his hand loose. "You were at the shop yesterday getting into my business."

Hank threw the other man's hand away from himself, making Nick's shoulder jerk as he took a step backwards. He looked like he was experiencing a severe struggle to control himself from beating Nick into a bloody pulp.

"I'm Zoey's- friend. I work at Xavier's School for the Gifted, and I'm a man who knows that men who hit women are weak, sniveling cowards," Hank replied coldly.

_My hero. Be still, my heart._

"Ms. Dubois is trying to do what is best for your daughter," Xavier added calmly. "And is obviously willing to go to great lengths to do so. I suggest that you let her."

Nick was silent, his mean little eyes darting around as he considered his options. I held my breath, hoping that my ultimatum would finally have an effect.

"Fine," he finally snapped.

_Yes!_

I wanted to dance, to sing- or maybe even both. Olivia was finally going to school. She was going to be with other mutant children and hopefully learn how to control her ability and live a happy life. It was all I ever wanted for her and I couldn't wait to tell her about it.

"Can you two give us a minute with Livie?" I asked.

"Are you going to threaten me with jail time if I don't?" Nick sneered.

"Possibly," I retorted, glowering at him. Dear Lord, I wanted to set his mustache on fire. "That kind of fear keeps a man like you in line."

He let out an aggravated sigh and walked away, back towards the living room. Chloe gave me a reproachful look as she followed.

I turned back to Hank and Xavier, feeling rather grateful for their support but sheepish at the same time.

"Thank you. I'm afraid you're not seeing my family at its best."

"I'm guessing you left out the fact that Olivia is a mutant to protect her?" Xavier asked gently.

"Yes. I couldn't care less if they hate my guts," I told him. "But I will not allow that girl to grow up believing that her parents hate her. They're not what you would call open-minded."

"I noticed."

The argument was officially over, so now it was safe for Olivia to come down. I could already picture her reaction- she was going to be over the moon about this.

"Livie and I have a code for when some kind of argument happens," I explained. "She can come out of her room on the second bird."

"Can you generate fire?" Hank guessed.

"Yes."

He was smiling for some reason, but I couldn't shake my unease over what he'd just seen.

I'd had to blackmail my brother-in-law, and then he tried to hit me. Hank probably thought we were some sort of dysfunctional soap opera- he was probably just waiting for a chance to run for the hills now.

"You haven't exactly seen the best side of me today," I admitted. "I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to speak to me again."

Hank shook his head and smiled. "I haven't run away yet, have I?" he said, quoting me. "I'm still here."

I grinned as my heart sped up in response.

He was intelligent, and handsome, a gentleman who stood up for me... and knew about my crazy family and didn't even mind. Could he be any _more_ wonderful?

"Sounds like someone is smitten," Xavier observed cheerfully.

_That makes two of us._


	5. Talk to Me

_Author's note: Thank you to partygirl98 and anonymouscsifan for the reviews! Thank you also to Rasha007, grandprincessanastasiaromanov5, Cloudcity'sBookworm and partygirl98 for reviewing A Fine Summer's Day. Like I said, I posted that one just because the idea hit me and I know people were asking for more of Hank and Zoey's babies :-)_

_This chapter and the next cover chapters fifteen through seventeen. It's this discussion, along with the conversation where Hank shows her Beast, that inspired me to write this collection. Hope you like it!_

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><p><strong>Talk to Me<strong>

"I want you to like me," Hank admitted sheepishly as he drove me home.

It was a simple statement, but the way he said it spoke volumes. Hank wasn't one to play games- he was very forthright about his feelings. And he wanted me to return those feelings.

He just didn't really think I would be able to, after I learned his secret.

Hank hurried out of the car to open the door for me and help me out, once again proving what a gentleman he was. It made me feel quite safe with him, for all that he'd already admitted to watching me for months and I'd spent only a grand total of an hour in his company thus far.

I wanted to get to know him more. And I certainly wanted _him_ to get to know _me_. We both had built castles in the air about each other, and now we finally had the opportunity to measure expectation against reality.

I just hoped neither of us would be disappointed, especially shy, sweet Hank. I'd done nothing to earn the affection he already seemed to feel, and I worried I wouldn't live up to the picture of me he had in his head.

There was only one way to find out.

"Would you like to come in? Have some dinner?" I offered tentatively.

Hank considered it for half a beat before replying. "That sounds nice."

"Come with me," I said, smiling.

My apartment building was a modest four-story Victorian with one apartment per floor. I moved into it less than two weeks after Daddy died, after some rather pointed comments from Nick that I didn't really need all that space in the house when it was just myself. That man certainly didn't waste time.

But for once I hadn't minded the heavy-handed hints. Everything in that house reminded me of my father, and I was quite content to get away from the painful mementos of what I'd lost. Instead I bought this building and had the tenants sign over the leases to me as their new landlord after I moved into the fourth floor.

Now Hank followed me up the stairs, as silent as a mouse. At one point I actually thought he wasn't even there anymore- like he'd lost his courage and ran off or something.

"You move so quietly that I thought you weren't there anymore," I said, frowning.

Was a nearly-silent tread another part of his mutation? My sandals seemed to slap even louder than usual on the stairs, making me feel self-conscious.

"I'm light on my feet," he replied dryly. "Part of my mutation."

"I'm a little jealous," I laughed. "I feel like I'm an elephant."

He chuckled. "I didn't know elephants came in pygmy size," Hank joked, at which I had to laugh again. I thought that was a rather deft way to address my comment.

"This is my place," I announced when we reached my door. "Come on in."

_Thank heavens I cleaned yesterday!_

As I always did when I got home, I removed my shoes and called out for my cats.

"Where are my babies?"

Lucie, Sydney, and Charlie immediately came running to greet me. Sometimes I wondered if they were part canine, the way they were so attached to me. I expected them to start wagging their tails like puppies any day now.

They quickly turned their attention to Hank though. Sydney stood on his hind legs to get a closer look at Hank and batted his hand playfully.

"Sid, mind your manners," I scolded. What if Hank was allergic to cats? "I should've warned you, I'm sorry."

But to my delight, Hank didn't mind. He knelt down and started to pet all of them, asking their names. He even got the _A Tale of Two Cities_ reference. Another point for him in my book.

Hank was much more talkative than I thought he'd be, considering his extreme shyness. We chatted amiably about my thesis presentation- something he assured me I would do well on, like he had no doubts whatsoever- and my cats.

And then he told me about the X-Men, the secret organization he belonged to. How it started during the Cuban Missile Crisis, back in 1962, and the remaining members went on to form the school Olivia would be going to now. Their goal was to protect mutants, to help them learn to control their powers.

But two of the X-Men's original members had gone on to form the Brotherhood, a group I'd vaguely heard mentioned in the news for being a low-level terrorist cell.

Something about the way Hank kept his face carefully expressionless as he spoke of Raven Darkholme, one of the Brotherhood members, made my intuition flare. It made me wonder if he'd perhaps liked her at some point.

How had he felt, when she left with Magneto that day?

I wanted to ask, but knew that would be rather impertinent considering everything else Hank was already sharing. He didn't want to keep secrets from me, and I couldn't help admiring his honesty.

But he still hadn't divulged his biggest secret, the one Hank believed would make me run away from him screaming.

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><p>"You said that being a mutant was only part of your secret, and you also wrote in your letter that you believed you could never be anyone's 'Prince Charming,'" I said finally, broaching the subject after dinner.<p>

I'd made chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, and rolls. I _really_ hoped Hank hadn't noticed that I'd forgotten to add salt to the potatoes, and that the rolls were burned on the bottom. Thankfully he made no comment.

Maybe he liked it that way? I'd heard of some people liking the taste of burned food- like marshmallows. Wouldn't I be lucky if Hank was one of them?

Now we were sitting on the couch together, and Hank was fiddling with his Coke bottle rather than looking at me. I wondered if that was a nervous habit.

"Which leads me to think your mutation is physical?"

"It is," Hank replied reluctantly. "Mostly."

_Not helpful._

I frowned, feeling rather exasperated. "You're being maddeningly evasive," I griped.

"I know, but please understand that it's a very serious thing," he explained sadly. "So serious that I wouldn't blame you for kicking me out and never speaking to me again."

"Try me," I retorted.

Hank finally looked at me, his gaze finding mine. I kept my expression open, patient- even though I was dying from curiosity at this point.

He seemed to find his courage then, and bent over to take off his shoes and socks-

Revealing prehensile, hand-feet. They stretched out, almost like they were relishing their freedom.

I couldn't help gasping in wonder.

A million questions immediately ran through my head- what exactly could Hank do with those feet? Could he write with them? Juggle? Did they help him run faster? Could he hold my-?

I giggled at the idea I'd just had, and decided to try it out immediately. I scooted closer on the sofa until I was right next to Hank and grabbed one of his hands in mine, lacing our fingers together. Then I untucked my leg so my foot was under one of his.

His finger-toes closed over my foot, cradling it gently though his foot easily dwarfed mine.

_You know what they say about guys with big feet..._

"We're holding hands _and _feet," I said quickly, hoping Hank wouldn't notice the flush on my cheeks. "Not many people can say they can do this, right?"

"Definitely not," he agreed, looking surprised. "Y-you don't mind?"

I scoffed. "Of course not. Why would I be? Can you climb really well?" I asked excitedly. "Does it hurt, folding your feet to get them into shoes? How coordinated are you with them? You're amazing!"

Hank just stared at me, utterly nonplussed.

"Most people are repulsed by my feet," he mumbled.

"Most people are too closed-minded to see past their own noses," I retorted.

How could anyone see anything wrong with something so special?

Hank laughed, sounding startled. I leaned down and tapped his leg.

"May I see?"

He crossed his legs, so his foot was across his lap. "Sorry if they stink."

"Men are supposed to have smelly feet, Hank," I replied dismissively.

I poked at the sole of his foot with my free hand, unwilling to stop holding his other one. Holding hands with Hank was _perfect_, despite how small mine were compared to his. In a gooey, romantic way it felt like they were made to fit together. It was just... pure hand-holding _magic_.

"Are you ticklish? How sensitive are your toes?"

"No, I'm not ticklish. And I can use them just like hands, for climbing or anything else you would think of. And it's uncomfortable to fold up my feet, but it doesn't hurt," he explained, uncrossing his legs.

"Was that all you were afraid of?" I asked incredulously. "Your big dark secret was awesome feet?"

"No, Zoey," he said sadly. "There's more."

"I'm listening. But before you tell me, could you explain your reasons?"

"I need to tell you because I want to pursue an actual relationship with you," he replied, cheeks reddening adorably. My heart started doing a tap-dance in my chest. "And I was under the impression that you might be interested in doing the same."

I smiled and nodded, feeling my face heat up at his forthrightness. "It's not every day a man buys me coffee and books and brings me flowers for months," I noted. "It shows some dedication. And maybe it's a little weird, but I can appreciate flattery in its various forms."

_I understand how shy you are, and how hard you're trying for me._

Hank ducked his head bashfully. "I'm glad you took it that way. I knew I was being weird, but seeing you made me so happy and I wasn't brave enough to actually say something until now," he told me. "But anyway. I don't want us to become truly involved with each other unless you know exactly what you're getting involved _with._ It wouldn't be fair to you, otherwise. So I want you to know now and hopefully save you pain later if you were to decide it's too much for you to handle."

I nodded. "I understand," I replied. I appreciated his desire to be honest with me.

And then Hank told me that he grew up yearning to be normal, and had tried to make a serum that changed his genes.

But that serum failed and turned him into a monster, the night before Cuba.

A monster.

Even as he explained how he looked in his new form- complete with blue fur, yellow eyes, fangs, and claws- I felt a swell of compassion, rather than fear. No wonder he thought no one would ever fall for him!

And if he had feelings for this Raven woman, as I suspected he had, how had it felt for him to lose her _and_ go through such a radical physical and mental change within the space of twenty-four hours?

_Poor, poor Hank..._

This shy, sweet boy told me he felt he was a monster, some sort of animal. How he feared his appearance had changed that day to match the beast inside, instead of the other way around.

But I could only think of every kind thing he'd done for me (especially in regards to Olivia), even though I was practically a stranger to him. Of the gentleness apparent in everything he did- except with Nicholas, but in my opinion Hank had been much too nice to that man.

No. I knew, deep in my heart, that Hank McCoy was no monster.


	6. Beauty and the Beast

_Author's note: Thank you to Muirgen79, partygirl98, and anonymouscsifan for the reviews! Today is a continuation of the conversation from last time. Hope you guys like it!_

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><p><strong>Beauty and the Beast<strong>

No, he was not a monster.

I would convince Hank of that fact later, though. First I had other questions that needed answering.

"You're not blue and furry now, though," I observed. "And you seem to act normal enough. Except for the extreme shyness, I guess."

"Right. Almost a year ago, now, I developed another formula that repressed my second mutation. I'm fine, most of the time. But when I get angry, or some other kind of- _instinct_ kicks in... my serum fails, and my feral side takes over until I can calm back down again."

The gold flash in his eyes earlier, the one I thought I'd imagined, suddenly made sense. It wasn't my imagination at all- Hank had been on the verge of losing his self-control with Nick.

But he _had_ controlled himself, despite the provocation...

"Can you see why I would be concerned about being involved in a romantic relationship with anyone?"

"You're afraid you would get angry? That you could hurt me?" I guessed.

Even as I said the words, I didn't believe them. I couldn't picture Hank trying to hurt me at all. He was much too gentle, too sweet. Even today, when he looked like he was seriously contemplating beating Nick into next week, I hadn't been afraid of him.

"No. I almost never get angry enough for that to happen anymore. It's pretty rare because I've learned to control my temper very, very well. Your brother-in-law trying to hit you made me upset enough for it to be a close call, but that was the nearest I've come to losing it in ages. And hurting a female goes against instinct, no matter what. I don't think I'd be able to hit a girl even if she punched me in the face a few times."

"Then what are you afraid-?" I began to say.

And then I remembered what he said. When any other _instinct_ kicked in.

My cheeks started to burn. "Oh. _That._"

"It's the main reason why I never tried to speak to you," he admitted. "Even if you accepted my weird feet and my utter lack of social skills, how could I ask you to be with someone who might not even be able to kiss you- let alone anything else- without turning into a furry blue monster?"

I blushed even harder at the thought. Most people had this discussion much later, even _months_ into their relationship. Not during their first ever real in-depth conversation.

But then, we weren't most people.

I could see why Hank was bringing it up now, rather than waiting. He didn't want to hurt me.

Now I had a confession of my own.

"Well, I wouldn't mind trying to kiss you," I explained, sure I was tomato red at this point. "But... as for 'anything else,' just so you know, I'm, um- saving myself for marriage. Things worked out well for my mother, but I don't want to make the same mistake as my sister."

Both my mother and my sister had had shotgun weddings. I didn't want that for myself at all- that feeling of obligation to rush into a marriage. I wanted someone to marry me for me, rather than because they were fulfilling a duty after a "mistake."

The only way to absolutely guarantee that was to wait.

And... it was a big step. Something I could only see myself doing with a man I loved and trusted, who loved me back enough for us to make the ultimate commitment together.

"So... yeah. Is that ok with you?"

Hank nodded eagerly, like he had no problem putting that issue far into the future. Yet another thing we were on the same page about.

For a moment we just looked at each other. I could see the worry in his eyes, the imminent fear of rejection, like he expected me to scream at him to get out of my apartment at any second.

That wasn't going to happen.

Hank was like the Beast in the original _Beauty and the Beast. _He possessed a kind, gentle nature despite his appearance, and now he was just looking for a Beauty of his own.

_I feel like I've stepped into a fairy tale, _I thought to myself. _Could I be his Belle? The one who sees who he really is on the inside?_

I had a feeling I already did.

"What I don't understand is, if you won't hurt me or anything... what's the problem?" I asked finally.

"The fact that I could turn fuzzy and-"

"And I was willing to give my secret admirer a chance even if he turned out to be thirty-five and balding," I cut in.

I didn't want to talk about the fairy tale stuff on the risk that I would sound like a silly twelve-year-old, but I hoped that comment would make my point anyway. I wanted Hank to understand that I didn't care about his appearance, but I had a feeling it would be difficult for him to believe after a lifetime of insecurity and other people making him feel inadequate for just being himself.

It wasn't _fair_, that such a kind-hearted person had to suffer through that. Hank deserved to be loved for who he was, furriness or not...

I shook off his hand and foot, sitting on my knees instead so I could throw my arms around his neck and snuggle against Hank's shoulder.

_"'Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind/ And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind,'"_ I murmured. "I'm so sorry you've always felt that you couldn't be yourself."

He bowed his head, reaching up to give my wrist a gentle squeeze. I felt him relax, the tension draining out of him now that I knew his secret and obviously didn't mind.

I lifted my head to kiss his cheek, but found myself caught in his gaze as soon as my eyes met his.

Hank's eyes were just so _blue_. Pure and endless, like a summer sky. They drew me in effortlessly, and I found myself leaning in to kiss him without thinking.

My lips barely brushed his-

And then Hank jerked away from my face with a gasp.

I turned my head to see Sydney standing on Hank's lap, looking quite pleased with himself. And trust me when I say that he wasn't dainty, by any means.

_Oh, dear._

The cat meowed in our faces, unperturbed that he'd just ruined the moment. I huffed at him, but he completely ignored me and started to mole around Hank's lap, looking for a hand to be petted with instead.

"I'm sorry," I said sheepishly. I moved to sit back on the couch properly as Hank obliged my romance-ruining feline and began to pet him with his free hand.

"Don't be."

Hank released my wrist, freeing up his other hand. Within seconds we were surrounded by cats demanding attention.

The mood was basically ruined at that point, but Hank didn't run away or anything so I took that to be a good sign. He seemed much more relaxed now that he'd told me his secret, much more comfortable with me. Talking to me seemed easier, at least.

In fact, we talked until past eleven o'clock.

"I'm so sorry, but look what time it is," Hank noted, sounding reluctant. "I know you have a big day tomorrow, so I should be going."

_Stupid clock._

I wanted more time with him- somehow I feared that if this day ended, tomorrow all the walls would come back up and Hank would revert to being too shy to speak to me.

"I had fun tonight," I offered as he followed me to the door.

"Me, too. Thank you for having me. And for being so understanding- it means more to me than I can say," he said earnestly.

I shook my head and smiled at his sincerity.

Hank stood there awkwardly for a moment, like he wasn't sure how to say goodbye. His hesitation made me wonder if he was debating on kissing me.

I didn't really expect him to, honestly. He'd been brave enough coming here and telling me everything he had. Anything else was-

And then Hank leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

Just the feeling of his lips on my skin made me feet suddenly feel bolted to the floor, like I was being grounded from an electrical shock. I could feel my face turning red as he pulled away.

"Good luck on your presentation. Will I see you tomorrow at Marceline's?" he asked, stepping out the door.

I certainly hoped so. I was rather afraid I would wake up at any moment and find out this was all a dream.

"Of course," I replied, still feeling a little giddy from that kiss.

"Until tomorrow then," Hank said shyly, giving me a smile.

A real, adorably lopsided smile that lit up his entire face and told me just how happy he was right now, if he was forgetting to be politely reserved. I had a feeling he hid his teeth when he usually smiled out of habit because he was used to having fangs still.

But this smile... it went _beyond_ causing butterflies in my stomach. It basically turned me into a puddle on the floor.

"Good night, Zoey."

"Night, Hank."

Tomorrow. I would see him tomorrow.

I leaned on the door after I shut it behind him, clutching my chest and feeling my heart flutter the way I only thought happened in silly romance novels and old movies. I couldn't wipe the huge smile off my face if I tried.

For the first time in my life, reality was better than my dreams.


	7. At the Castle

_Author's note: Thank you to anonymouscsifan and partygirl98 for the reviews! Today's writing I chose because I wanted to show just what Zoey felt about being introduced to Alex and learning more about the X-Men. Hope you like it!_

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><p><strong>At the Castle<strong>

"I'm so excited!" Olivia cried, clapping her hands and bouncing on the seat.

"Really?" I teased. "I couldn't tell."

She stuck her tongue out at me in reply.

We were in my Aston Martin, driving to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters for our visit. Olivia was understandably ecstatic, and so was I. She was _finally_ going to go to school, to be around other kids her age. To belong somewhere.

The fact that Xavier might even be able to help Olivia control her ability was just a cherry on top of the most perfect sundae ever.

I couldn't remember feeling happier than I'd been over the past few days. It had been _years,_ at least.

Sure, the confrontation with my sister and Nick hadn't been fun, and my thesis presentation had been stressful, but... I'd also "met" Hank.

Yesterday at Marceline's had been absolutely wonderful. We spoke for hours, holding hands, and never ran out of things to say to each other. He was sweet, incredibly intelligent, and charming without even realizing it- something I actually found rather endearing. Hank's compliments made me flush up like a tomato, because I could tell he truly meant every word.

It might sound dumb, but I felt I'd found a kindred spirit. The idea of seeing him again today made my feel almost giddy with excitement.

As if reading my thoughts, Olivia spoke up. "Are we seeing your admirer today?"

"We are," I replied, unable to stop a smile from crossing my face at the thought.

Olivia grinned back, though her expression quickly became rather solemn. "I like seeing your _real_ smile, Auntie," she observed quietly.

Though she didn't say it, I understood what she meant. It was hard to fake anything around a telepath.

I opened my mouth to reply, but Olivia was distracted at that moment when she got her first glimpse of Xavier's as we drove up through the trees.

"Auntie, look!" she cried out, pointing. "Hey, is that Mr. Hank over there?"

It was indeed.

And he appeared to be currently holding up the front end of a Camaro while someone worked underneath it.

With one hand.

_Wow._

I parked along the roundabout out front and exited the car. I waved at Hank as I helped Olivia, taking note of his answering wave and adorable grin as my niece and I walked over, hand-in-hand.

"Hello," I greeted Hank when we got closer, taking in the scene.

"Hi," he replied. He was holding up that car's front end without even breaking a sweat.

_Sweet, smart, and super strength? _I thought to myself. _Could he get any more dreamy?_

I shook myself and glanced down at Olivia. "Livie, say hello to Mr. Hank."

"Hi, Mr. Hank. Are you Auntie Zoey's boyfriend now? She thinks you're dreamy. Especially for being able to lift a car up like that," Olivia announced.

_Oh, God. Someone shoot me!_

I felt like my brain was about to cook, I was turning so red. I snatched my hand away from Olivia, feeling beyond embarrassed. I wanted a hole to open up in the earth so I could willingly jump in it. I couldn't even look at Hank anymore.

Olivia clapped her hands over her mouth, realizing much too late what she'd just said. "Sorry, Auntie!"

Whoever was under the car started laughing, adding to my horror.

"Hello, Olivia. Your aunt is very nice for- um, _thinking_ those things about me," Hank said. "And... I'd love to be your Auntie Zoey's boyfriend, if she'll have me."

A fresh blush came to my cheeks as my eyes met his earnest gaze. I admired the diplomatic way he handled Olivia's inappropriate over share.

Did he-?

"You're going to make me barf, Beast," the other man grouched, rolling himself out from underneath the Camaro. "You're so-"

"Say anything further and I'll destroy the shocks on your car when I _drop it_," Hank retorted quickly.

I had to bite back a laugh. I actually enjoyed watching him stand up for himself.

"Yeah, yeah."

"This is Alex Summers," Hank explained after he set down the car and wiped off his hands. "He teaches shop class here at the Institute. Alex, this is Zoey Dubois and her niece Olivia Grey. Olivia is going to hopefully start school here soon."

"Hi," Alex said apathetically. Then he saw my car, and his tone became much more enthusiastic. "Is that an Aston Martin?"

"Yes. It's a 1966 Short Chassis Volante," I replied.

_Another gear head, nice!_

"Damn. Do you know how rare those are?"

Something about his tone bothered me. Like he didn't expect me to know.

Because I was a _girl._

"Yes. Do you?"

"Yeah, less than forty were made," Alex retorted.

"Thirty-seven, to be exact," I couldn't help replying. Just so he knew that I was no slouch.

He looked mildly impressed as he turned towards Hank (who looked completely nonplussed- he'd already admitted to me that he wasn't much into cars) and observed, "James Bond drove that car. A skirt shouldn't be driving it."

My temper immediately flared. There were few things I hated more than when people tried to say I couldn't do something because I was a woman. Driving a certain car, living by myself, running my own company- telling me "no" just made me want to do it more just to shove it in my critics' faces.

Case in point: Daddy signed me up for Little League Baseball when I was younger, because I wanted to play. The boys on my team called me names- even the other parents rolled their eyes when they saw me- until I pitched my first no-hitter in my third game. Eventually I was named the best left-handed pitcher in New York state, three years in a row.

I prided myself in my ability to shut people up.

"Actually, James Bond drove just a regular DB5. Short Chassis have DB6 bumpers and TR4 lights," I stated, glowering at the blonde. "And a 'skirt' can drive it if she wants to."

Alex looked like I'd slapped him. "Your girl's a little touchy," he muttered.

"Maybe she doesn't like to be called a 'skirt,'" Hank suggested coolly. Then he turned to us. "Let me show you inside."

"I'm sorry for that," he murmured apologetically as we walked inside.

"Don't be," I whispered back. "Your friend embarrassed you, my niece embarrassed me. We're even."

He let out a relieved sigh. "What do you think so far, Olivia?" he asked.

"It looks like a castle," Olivia replied, awestruck. "Will I get to live here?"

I nodded at Hank's questioning look. "If you want to, yes," he told her.

"Will you be one of my teachers?"

"No, I don't teach. I just research," Hank explained. "But I live here too. So maybe when Auntie Zoey comes to visit you she'll stop by to see me, too."

"Maybe. If I feel like sharing her," Olivia announced.

I, needless to say, was feeling quite cherished just then.

* * *

><p>After a tour around the school, Xavier asked if we'd like to stay for dinner. I accepted happily, especially after I saw how easily Olivia was accepted by the other little girls. I wanted to give her more time to make new friends.<p>

And... I certainly wasn't opposed to spending more time with Hank.

So after an uncomfortable phone call to Chloe to check in, Hank and I went for a walk.

He took me outside, into the gardens. They were beautiful, but I couldn't help dwelling on my conversation with Chloe. _Why_ couldn't she see that this was really for the best? What could I do-?

"Do you want to talk about it?" Hank asked gently.

"Not right now," I replied, though I appreciated his offer. "Could you tell me something happy?"

"I think Olivia is going to do wonderfully here. You're an amazing aunt for standing up and having the courage to do what's best for her," he said. "And since I know you can't be here every day, I promise I'll look out for her the best I can."

_I don't think he could've thought of anything more perfect to say._

I smiled and leaned my head against his arm as he opened the door for a greenhouse. "That actually helps a lot. Thank you."

"No problem," he demurred, gesturing that I should go inside. "Now, these are Moira's treasures."

"Moira's treasures" turned out to be the most gloriously well-kept garden I'd ever seen. Begonias, lilies, hydrangeas, lilacs- she had _everything_.

I felt a little jealous as I sniffed at some violets, feeling Hank's eyes on me as I did. I couldn't even keep a houseplant alive.

"Back when the school first started, she was too busy helping us get everything running to be out here much. But now that everything mostly runs smoothly Moira spends hours out here."

"I admire her work. This is beautiful," I said honestly. "You said that this was Professor Xavier's family home?"

"Yes, the mansion belonged to his step-father. After Cuba we retro-fitted it into a school. It probably wouldn't surprise you, but Alex and Sean make a good wrecking crew," Hank commented dryly, leading me outside.

I smiled at the affectionate way he referred to all of them. I could picture it somehow- Mr. and Mrs. Xavier acting as parental figures to three boisterous young men. Well, Hank wasn't exactly boisterous. But he'd told me some of the escapades the X-Men had gotten into over the years.

They were a family, of sorts.

"And you? How did you help?"

"I mostly helped Charles with the legal side of things and rebuilding the machines that got broken in Cuba," Hank explained. He sounded uneasy.

"It sounds like all of you are very close to him," I noted.

"I suppose that's because he's helped us so much. All of us were rather afraid of using our powers when we first met him," he replied. "But we helped him, too. He tried to be strong and move forward after everything that happened, but we all knew he was hurting."

"You mentioned his sister and friend?"

"Yes. He lost his legs that day in Cuba, along with Raven and Erik. And then soon after he wiped Moira's memories and sent her away."

That surprised me.

"But Moira's here now. Did he change his mind?" I asked curiously.

"No. Moira's a very smart woman. She pieced together where we were using travel receipts from her job at the CIA. After she quit and lost the tail the agency had on her, Moira showed up on the front doorstep one day. She gave Charles the choice of sending her away again, but he didn't. He'd missed her too much. And the rest is history."

After hearing that, I definitely wanted to meet the very clever and determined Moira.

But I had a feeling there was more to this story than Hank was letting on. He spoke of Charles' hardships, but not of his own. Even if Hank hadn't had feelings for Charles' adoptive sister, there was still the fact that he turned into a feral mutant after that night. Surely it took time to come to terms with that? Especially considering how much trouble he had with it now?

"And you?" I asked slowly. "Who helped you through your pain?"

"My pain?"

"Yes, your pain," I replied. "Your second mutation happened, and you lost Raven that day, too."

His eyes darted over to me immediately, his expression guarded. "How'd you-?"

Not a denial, then. Score one for woman's intuition.

"The way you say her name," I explained simply, smiling to soften the accusation. "Like it's something secret."

Hank didn't say anything, choosing to stare at his feet instead.

He obviously didn't want to talk about it, which made me assume that Raven had hurt him very badly. I could imagine why- he transformed, and then she left him. What a blow to his already shaky self-esteem! It probably confirmed every suspicion in his mind that told him he wasn't worth sticking around for...

I felt horrible for bringing up those painful memories in the first place.

"Not today?" I asked gently.

"Not today," he agreed, sounding grateful.

"I'm sorry if you felt put on the spot after what Livie said earlier," I blurted out without thinking a few minutes later.

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I thought that maybe you felt like you had to answer 'yes' when she asked if you were my boyfriend now," I explained sheepishly.

Hank shook his head earnestly. "I don't know how much of a boyfriend I'll be, but I want to try. If you'll have me, that is."

My heart skipped a beat.

"I'll have you," I told him. I stopped walking and took both of his hands in mine. "You're very easy to talk to, now that you actually _talk_."

"You make it easy," Hank replied bashfully, with an adorable grin. "I feel like I've found a kindred spirit. Maybe I saw that from the very beginning, but I was too afraid."

_He feels it too!_

"Can I ask why you started to buy my mochas in the first place?" I asked, to cover up the fact that I wanted to squeal like a thirteen-year-old.

"I overheard Olivia tell you that her father believed you'd never catch a man, if you kept trying for your degree. I wanted to show you, just in case you were having doubts, that that wasn't true. Any man would be lucky to have you. And... everything I did- I just wanted to make you happy and see you smile. Even if you didn't know it was me."

I smiled and slipped my hands around his neck. I had to stand on tiptoe to do it, he was so tall.

I _really_ liked this boy, and I'd only known him for a few days. Everything about him, from his awe-inspiring intelligence down to his amazing monkey-feet made me get butterflies in my stomach and shivers down my spine. I wanted this to work between us.

"I know you're scared," I murmured, looking up into his big blue eyes, "about what could happen. Maybe I am, too. But we can take this slow, ok?"

"I watched you for three and a half months before speaking to you, Zoey," Hank muttered. "I am the king of taking it slow."

I had to press my face into his chest to contain my giggling fit. He smelled _so_ nice- clean, like soap, with a hint of aftershave.

The look in Hank's eyes made me stop breathing when I looked back up at him again. Everything else fell away, leaving just him and I in this bubble where everything was _perfect_. He was healing my heart without even trying.

_Kiss me. I know I said we could take it slow but please just-_

Hank started to lean in, and it felt like every synapse in my brain fired off in anticipation. I closed my eyes, waiting-

And then Alex interrupted us. I was _this close_ to setting his hair on fire for ruining the moment.

_That bastard._


	8. Patience

_Author's note: Thank you to partygirl98, anonymouscsifan, kmj1989 and NotMarge for the reviews! Not to toot my own horn, but I like the way I paint Alex in this story. He's a pain and a bit of a jerk, but he's got a good heart underneath it all. I don't really think it came across in XMFC- but then again, a good 75% of his scenes were spent making fun of my Hank- I mean, Hank._

_Anyway, today's installment comes from chapters 25 and 26. I've also been doing a lot of prep for my upcoming "Jily" fic, which I'm getting more and more nervous about, haha..._

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><p><strong>Patience<strong>

"Would you like to come inside?" I asked as Hank helped me out of the car.

"Yes, thank you," he replied.

I could sense that something was on his mind, and I had a feeling I knew what it was. We'd just gotten back from having dinner with Nick and Chloe, and- needless to say- it wasn't exactly a pleasant evening.

_Honestly, I've had more fun at the dentist._

My sister and her husband spent the entire evening alternating between scowling at us over baked chicken and asking Hank needling questions designed to make him uncomfortable and test his motives in regards to dating me.

I could tell something about that dinner was bothering him, and the only thing I could do was wait him out. I knew he'd come clean eventually.

One of the many wonderful things about Hank was his integrity. He was practically a compulsive truth-teller- a few days ago, at Billy and Marceline's, I'd watched him hopelessly founder for words to explain why he couldn't drink alcohol without mentioning his second mutation until I stepped in and rescued him. Hank McCoy preferred silence to outright lies, which were almost impossible for him. I liked that.

I _also_ liked that I was learning his little personality quirks already. And that he was learning mine.

Once inside my apartment I made tea for both of us and settled down on the sofa, taking note of his troubled expression.

_Three... two... one._

"You don't believe what Nicholas tried to imply, do you?" he blurted out.

I had to bite back a smile and raised my eyebrows. "What? That you and Billy are in cahoots to get my money? Just like Nick wanted to become friends with you to do the same?"

"Yeah," Hank replied disconsolately. "That."

I shook my head. "Not for a second. Billy wouldn't do that to me, and I believe you wouldn't either. Why would you think I would be suspicious?"

"I was thinking about how bad it looked- the day I actually started to try to speak to you was also the day I found out that you're very well-off. Even though finding that out almost made me want to turn around and give up," he admitted.

I stared at him, allowing my confusion to be apparent.

"You're beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted, _and_ rich on top of it all, Zoey. You deserve much more than a science geek who turns into a monster."

_Deserve? Oh, Hank..._

I worried occasionally that he'd put me on this pedestal, like he'd built a perfect image of me in his head that I had no hopes of every living up to.

Despite that, I refused to be anything but myself around Hank, because lying would make us both unhappy in the long run. I just hoped that I deserved the high esteem he evidently held me in.

And Hank?

He could only see himself as a monster, but I saw so much more in him. Someone who chose to rise above his deeper instincts, who conquered his own crippling shyness enough to reach out to me. He certainly deserved more than he gave himself credit for.

Now, to just make _him_ understand that.

On impulse, I swung my leg over, so I was straddling Hank's lap. His eyes immediately went slightly unfocused as my nails traced along the nape of his neck, our faces mere inches apart. I was so short compared to him that my eyes were barely level with his nose.

"_I_ get to decide what I deserve. Not you," I murmured. "Ok?"

"Ok," he replied, sounding dazed.

I won't lie- the fact that he turned to putty in my hands so easily was an ego boost. I'd never considered myself to be particularly pretty or anything, though I knew I wasn't hideous. I had my obsessions- mainly my hair (having curly hair was a hardship I'd wish on no one) and my nails- but otherwise I couldn't be bothered much with beauty. I'd always been too focused on my studies.

So having a handsome, sweet boy like Hank react to me like that... to say it was flattering would be an understatement.

And now I wanted to kiss him.

So I did.

Kissing Hank was nothing short of magical. The way his warm, soft lips fit against mine and his hands pressed me against him, like he never wanted to let me go, made me get all tingly in the pit of my stomach and the tips of my toes. He made me forget about everything except how wonderful it felt to be with him like that.

Hank's lanky frame was rather deceptive, which I discovered as my fingers traced along his chest and shoulders. I could feel the lean muscles through his shirt, felt them tense as his own hands came up to run through my hair, down my back, along my legs. My skin felt like it was on fire wherever Hank touched me, even through my clothes.

Both of us quickly got swept away in each other, like we were a match and tinder. I opened my mouth to his, and Hank pulled me closer still as our kisses deepened even more.

I bit his lip, teasing him. Hank made a low growling noise, deep in his throat that made me giggle despite how out of breath I was. The sound he made sent a delicious shiver down my spine.

Hank immediately pulled away, breaking off our kiss. I could hear his own ragged breathing before I even opened my eyes, but when I did I saw-

His eyes. They were gold, with a ring of orange around the irises.

_Wow._

In the back of my head I understood what it meant, that Hank was close to losing control of himself, but I wasn't afraid of him. I almost _wanted_ to see his other side.

Call it curiosity, I guess.

"Your eyes look like sunsets," I murmured, trying to assure him that it was alright. I stroked his cheek tenderly. "They're beautiful."

Hank swallowed thickly, his expression pained and more than a little panicked.

In a motion so quick I could barely even follow it, he picked me up by the waist, set me down on the sofa (gently, despite the speed of his movements), and bolted for the balcony door.

_Ouch._

My knee-jerk reaction was, of course, that I'd just been rejected. He didn't view our relationship the way I did. Why else would he push me away and then run for it?

I brought my knees to my chest and hunched over, trying to protect myself from the inevitable mental anguish.

_He doesn't want me. He doesn't-_

My thoughts pulled up short. Hank was afraid of showing me his other side. Even though he'd told me about it, he didn't want me to _see_ it. Not yet, at least, though I hoped one day he'd be comfortable...

The feeling of rejection melted away, leaving behind a sense of shame instead.

I was pushing him too far, too fast. I'd said that I would be patient, and then I turned around and practically threw myself at him. I unfairly strained Hank's careful self-control.

And now he was probably out there kicking himself and moping about why he couldn't just be "normal," and freaking out about how upset I would be with him.

_Damn. I really messed it up-_

Just then something touched my foot, and it _definitely_ wasn't a cat.

I startled and let out a squeak of surprise.

Hank was sitting in front of me, like he'd just magically appeared while I hid my face against my legs. At my expression of surprise he looked quite sheepish for sneaking up on me.

_Seriously. How does he move so quietly? I didn't even hear him open the door!_

"I need to put a bell on you," I muttered before I thought better of it. I uncurled my legs.

He gave me a weak smile in return.

I could tell he was very unsure of himself and how to react in this situation, so I decided to bite the bullet and go first. I held my hands out for him.

Hank reached out and held them in both of his.

For a moment he just stared at our entwined fingers. And then he shuddered, which made me wonder what he was thinking of. Was he picturing his feral form holding my hands instead?

"I'm sorry," I murmured. Hank immediately looked up, his expression shocked. "I wasn't thinking about how kissing you like that would push you."

He shook his head rapidly. "It's ok," he replied. Somehow he seemed horrified over the fact that I was apologizing. "I'm the one that should be apologizing. If it weren't for-"

I knew it. He'd been out there beating himself up for something he couldn't control.

I placed a finger on his lips to silence his self-deprecation and moved my hands to cradle his face instead. "It's part of who you are, Hank. I don't mind."

He nodded morosely, like he didn't really believe me.

I could practically see his thoughts as he looked down at our hands, his quirky brows slightly furrowed. How badly he wanted to be normal, to be the person he thought I supposedly deserved.

The truth was, I liked him just the way he was. Hank wouldn't be the same person if he didn't have these "issues." They'd played a big part in shaping his personality, willingly or no.

And I liked him as-is.

He just wasn't ready to accept _himself_ yet.

_Patient. I need to be patient._

"You're brooding," I announced, frowning at him. "Stop it. We just need to learn our limits, ok?"

Hank immediately relaxed at the suggestion. I had a feeling he thought I would give up and drop him already for the things he hated about himself. But I wasn't going to give up on him.

I already liked him too much to just walk away like that.

"Ok," he agreed.

I leaned down and kissed him gently, trying to convey to him that everything was ok.

He would let me see Beast one day. Someday he would feel comfortable enough to show me, and then I would be able to assure him that I didn't mind, that I still cared for him, and every horrible thought he had about himself was dead-wrong.

I just had to be patient.


	9. Happy Birthday

_Author's note: Thank you to Muirgen79, Rasha007, partygirl98, kmj1989, NotMarge and anonymouscsifan for the reviews! I hope you guys like this one today. It's the exact moment where Zoey realizes that she loves Hank. Bring on the fluffiness!_

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><p><strong>Happy Birthday<strong>

It was my nineteenth birthday, and I was spending it alone.

By choice, mind you. I purposely didn't tell Hank when it was, and asked Billy and Marceline to withhold that information as well. I just... didn't want him to know.

Last year on July 13th we were supposed to go to the zoo- Olivia, Daddy and I. I was going to push him around in his wheelchair while we looked at the animals and Olivia ate too much cotton candy, but that morning he was in too much pain to even get out of bed.

"I'm sorry, honey," Daddy muttered brokenly. "It's your birthday, though. Go- go take Olivia anyway. I'll be fine."

"Nonsense," I replied in a voice dripping with false cheer. "I'll just stay here and read to you today. The zoo will be there next year."

_But you won't be._

The words hung between us, unspoken, as I settled down to read _Les Miserables_ to him for the last time. The next morning he slipped into a coma he never woke up from.

Less than a week later my father was dead.

I wasn't Daddy's Little Girl. Because I didn't have one anymore.

So even considering my new-found happiness with Hank, I didn't really feel like celebrating this year. The weight of all my childhood memories, good and bad, was crushing me. I couldn't bring myself to even pretend to be cheerful today.

Instead I planned on staying home all day and looking at old photo albums. Remembering the times when I had a dad and Chloe didn't hate me as much as she-

A sharp knock sounded at my door, stirring me from my morbid ruminations.

I automatically stood and went to answer it. It was probably Ms. Peterson, my third floor tenant, asking for something stupid. I couldn't go a week without her demanding a new paint job or crown moldings.

But it wasn't Ms. Peterson at the door.

It was Hank and Olivia.

I froze, too shocked to even move or feel self-conscious about the fact that my face was probably all puffy from crying.

"Happy birthday, Auntie!" Olivia cheered. She was holding a small box and a card.

"Happy birthday," Hank murmured, his expression apologetic. He was holding a chocolate-covered cake.

_Damn._

I quickly recovered and smiled at them. "Oh, you remembered! Thank you!" I said brightly, leaning down to hug my niece. "Come in."

My unexpected guests stepped inside- Olivia making for the living room to find the cats, and Hank heading towards the kitchen to set down his burden. I followed Hank, feeling too guilty to even look him in the face as he stood there watching me.

"I'm sorry," we both blurted out.

I almost wanted to laugh.

"Can I go first?"

Hank nodded.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you today was my birthday," I whispered, so Olivia wouldn't hear. I stepped closer to him. "I even asked Billy and Marcy not to tell you because I- I-"

"Your dad?" Hank asked gently.

Bless him, he'd already guessed. That man was almost always on the same wavelength as I was. We technically hadn't known each other for long, but I felt like he knew me better than anyone else.

I nodded. "Last year he was dying and I wanted to look at my childhood photo albums today. I don't want to remember how he was when he was sick, not on my birthday. I felt... I felt like it would be too hard to pretend not to be sad today," I explained.

"You don't have to pretend with me," Hank told me quietly. "But I understand. I really do."

I looked down, trying to blink back tears. Not because I was sad this time, but because I was grateful for his understanding. "Thanks."

He was so sweet, and kind, and thoughtful...

"I'm sorry we're intruding," Hank said. "It didn't click for me why you didn't say anything until we were already here. Livie asked me for help Thursday night, and she worked so hard, I couldn't tell her-"

Olivia appeared in the kitchen, cutting off his explanation.

"Can we have cake now?"

I glanced at the clock and grinned, slipping on the cheerful mask I'd grown accustomed to. "It's 9:45 in the morning. I'd say it's cake time," I announced.

Olivia insisted that they sing "Happy Birthday," to my horror. I couldn't even look at the two of them as they sang to me because I was afraid of laughing right in their faces. They were _awful_, to the point where I couldn't even say I appreciated their efforts.

_Neither of you is going to appear on American Bandstand any time soon._

And then it came time to make my birthday wish.

What would I wish for, though? What would make me happy...?

My eyes met Hank's as I took a deep breath.

Looking back, I think that was the exact moment that I realized I was in love with him. Just the thought of him disappearing from my life made my heart constrict in my chest.

Hank was just so... _wonderful._ His intelligence was awe-inspiring, his compassion practically boundless. I felt like I could tell him anything and he would understand, because he just _got_ me. He had a quiet strength about him, despite his shyness. I felt safe around Hank, but also so exhilarated it was like I was standing with my toes hanging off the edge of a cliff.

_Let me keep him. He makes me feel alive again. Please, don't take him away from me._

_I think... I think I love him._

And then I blew out the candles, as my cheeks turned red at the realization that I loved Hank McCoy.

_Come on. Act casual._

We settled down to eat chocolate cake with chocolate frosting at the dining room table. It tasted fantastic, of course. You couldn't go wrong with chocolate.

"This is delicious," I remarked. "Who made it?"

"Mr. Hank baked the cake, and I did the frosting," Olivia replied proudly.

"Hank bakes?"

He looked embarrassed. "When the occasion calls."

I giggled, a wave of understanding hitting me. "No wonder you couldn't come over last night. It sounds like you had quite a busy day."

"Uh huh. We went to the mall and then we went to the drugstore and then the grocery store and we baked your cake and finished your present," Olivia explained. "Can you open it now?"

"Sure."

My niece hopped down from her chair to grab the present.

While she was gone I found myself staring at Hank. Could he see the difference in how I felt? Did he love me too?

I had a feeling he did. The way he looked at me... I felt like I was the center of his world, like I was more precious than gold to him. He treated me like-

"What?" Hank asked awkwardly, obviously taking note of the staring.

I blushed. "Nothing."

_Just contemplating how much I love you._

He looked like he was about to press me on it, but Olivia came back then with my present.

"You guys didn't have to get me anything," I murmured, looking down at the gift.

_Especially considering that I didn't want you to know it was my birthday in the first place._

"We wanted to," Hank said.

"It's from both of us. Open it!" Olivia urged, doing an anxious little dance.

I laughed at her enthusiasm and did as she advised.

A silver locket sat inside the small velvet box. I gasped when I saw it.

"Oh it's beautiful!"

"Look inside," Olivia said. As I started to, she blurted out, "it's me!"

And sure enough, inside was a tiny picture of my niece with a huge smile on her face.

I knew without asking that this present was mostly from Hank. There was no way Olivia could afford a piece of jewelry like this on her own. The fact that he worked together on this with her was incredibly endearing and sweet.

"It's _perfect_," I whispered, cursing the tears in my eyes. "Hank, could you help me put it on?"

"Of course."

After he helped me put it on, I drew both him and Olivia into a three-way hug.

"Thank you both so much," I murmured. I kissed Olivia on the cheek and Hank lightly on the lips. "I'm glad you came over and surprised me. You're my two favorite people in the entire world, you know. I love you both."

_There, I said it._

"Grandpa wouldn't want you to be sad on your birthday, Auntie," Olivia said sincerely.

I immediately felt guilty, knowing she must've heard my thoughts. I didn't want her to be burdened by my grief. I honestly didn't want _anyone_ to be bothered with it.

Olivia was growing up too fast because of her telepathy.

"He'd want you to let your favorite people take you to the zoo," she concluded.

The seriousness of her tone made me burst into giggles. My worries faded away as I laughed over her sheer audacity. If that wasn't a bold-faced move to get what she wanted, I didn't know what was.

Next to me, Hank was cracking up too. He looked so handsome when he laughed like that, it should be illegal.

"Ok, Livie. Let's go to the zoo," I agreed.

And so we did. It honestly made me wonder why I wanted to spend my birthday alone in the first place.

Forget about "pretending" to be happy.

They made me feel that way without even trying.


	10. I Love You

_Author's note: Thank you to NotMarge, partygirl98, Muirgen79, kmj1989 and Guest for the reviews! It's so nice to be on again. I'm guessing I wasn't the only one who had issues with it yesterday? It sucked! I finished editing a chapter, went to save, and... it disappeared :-(_

_But anyway, today's post is Zoey's view of chapter 33. Let the cuteness begin!_

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><p><strong>I Love You<strong>

Hank knocked on my door unannounced a few weeks later, looking much more excitable than normal. Usually he was outwardly calm and collected, even if he was anxious- I had a feeling it came from keeping such a stern handle on his emotions.

But today he looked nervous.

"Hello," I greeted him, smiling.

Even though I hadn't expected him to visit today, I was _more_ than happy to see him. I missed him when he wasn't around, even if I'd just hung out with him the day before.

I stood on tiptoe to give him a kiss. "Come on in."

"Actually, I was hoping you'd come with me to the Institute," Hank said.

"Ok," I agreed, immediately curious. Usually he was very go-with-the-flow, so this decisiveness with a little surprising. "What're we doing?"

He grinned mischievously- the sight made my stomach do a somersault and my heart skip a beat. "It's a surprise."

"A surprise?"

Hank nodded in mock solemnity.

_Ok, you have my attention._

I happened to love surprises.

"Come on," he cajoled, holding out his hand. "And please don't wear sandals."

"Um, ok," I agreed, thoroughly intrigued now. What were we doing? "Just give me one second."

Within minutes he'd helped me into his T1 and we were on our way.

"So, do I get a hint about this surprise?" I asked.

"I can't risk giving you a hint," he replied, sounding completely serious. "With your dazzling intellect you'd be sure to guess, and that would ruin it."

I giggled, my cheeks flushing. The man certainly knew how to play a compliment, and that was part of the reason I loved him. He was so charming, without even trying.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Hank," I told him.

I glanced over to see his ears turning red.

_My Lord, he is so cute._

Having a lot of experience with blushing myself (_curse you, red hair!_), I knew he was feeling rather hot at the moment.

"Phew," I teased, fanning myself. "It's warm out today."

"It is," he agreed. It sounded like he was trying not to laugh. "Want to roll the window down?"

"No!" I replied quickly. "You know what it'll do to my hair."

* * *

><p>"Ok, I need you to close your eyes," Hank told me when we got to the Institute.<p>

I smiled and immediately covered my eyes.

"You're being surprisingly cavalier about this," he commented, sounding bemused over my quick compliance. He gently took one of my hands and started to lead me along.

"I think the more I cooperate, the faster I'll get to my surprise," I reasoned. "The suspense is already killing me."

He chuckled. "Fair enough."

Hank led me forward by the hand. I could tell we were inside, but not much else. The anticipation was making me anxious.

"I need to pick you up, ok? Keep your eyes closed still," he said.

"You're going to pick me-?" I began.

And then he literally swept me off my feet, causing me to giggle. I buried my face in his shirt, still laughing, as he started carrying me bridal-style.

Being in his arms like that was fantastic. I felt safe... warm... protected. I could tell that carrying me was no strain at all for him. His strength was _very_ sexy, but I couldn't help teasing him about it.

"Am I hurting your back?" I joked.

"On the contrary, you're much too light. Have you not been eating enough?" Hank retorted playfully.

"Maybe not," I muttered. "I'm starting to realize I can't cook."

The smoke detector was _not_ supposed to go off almost every day, was it? I had a feeling I was doing something wrong, even though Hank never complained about the food I made for him.

He snorted. "Yes, I know."

My eyes opened in horror.

"Hank! Why didn't you say anything?" I demanded, glaring at him. "I thought you liked my cooking."

_Crush my delusions into the dust, why don't you?_

"Close your eyes, please," he begged.

I complied, though I was still wounded. All those nights when I fed him my best attempts at cooking, and he ate them without complaint... I honestly thought he didn't mind. Or at least that I was getting better!

"I'm sorry," Hank said earnestly. "I just didn't want to hurt your feelings."

"Well, they're hurt now," I muttered.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I'll teach you how."

"You know how to cook?" I asked, allowing myself to be distracted. "How'd you learn that?"

"Self defense," Hank replied sardonically. "Before Moira came back and whipped this place into shape it was just Charles, Alex, Sean and I. Alex burns water, Sean can barely work the microwave, and Charles can't reach anything in his wheelchair. So it was learn to cook or starve to death."

I could picture that in my head somehow, a group of four men living together in this massive version of a bachelor pad. The thought was actually rather amusing.

Especially when I tried to visualize a blue furry version of Hank wearing a flowery apron and slaving away over a hot stove.

He set me down at that moment, and I heard a door open. He led me inside by the hand while I kept my eyes squeezed shut.

"Can you teach me how to bake?" I asked finally. "I've always wanted to learn to make cookies."

"We'll see," Hank replied, though he sounded reluctant. "I really do apologize for insulting you."

"It's fine," I told him glumly. "I should've known better when you said you liked that pot roast last week."

It had had the consistency of a hockey puck, but Hank had just smothered it in the lumpy gravy I made and said it was "tasty."

"It wasn't so bad," he retorted immediately.

I glowered at him for fibbing. And here I was, thinking he couldn't lie at all! In reality he'd been trying to save my feelings all this time.

"Right this way, please," Hank said quickly, like he was trying to change the subject.

He took my hand again and led me into another room. I could tell this one was quite large from the way my footsteps echoed, though Hank, of course, moved as silently as a mouse.

Then we just stood there for a minute or two. Just when I was about to ask him what exactly we were waiting for, the air got very chilly.

I shivered. "It's cold," I muttered.

"There's a reason for that," Hank said. "You can look now."

I opened my eyes and couldn't stop a gasp from escaping my lips.

We were standing on a snow-covered, stone bridge spanning a frozen river that bisected a small clearing. A blanket of fresh powder lay on everything- the pinewood forest that stood on one side, and the cute little Tudor-styled cottages on the other. Smoke trailed from their snowy chimneys and up into the pearly gray sky, which spit out an occasional snowflake.

"What-?" I asked, laughing, as I looked around. "The Danger Room?"

Hank nodded, grinning at my reaction.

"There's no robots coming, right?"

"No," he replied, grinning even more. "No robots. Just snow."

And then he offered me a jacket that had been lying there, and helped me put it on. It went past my knees and smelled just like him. I had to stop myself from burying my face in it to take a deep inhale.

"There's gloves in the pockets," he told me.

"Thank you."

I felt my face splitting into a huge smile as I stepped off the bridge and looked around. I scooped up a handful of snow and laughed in delight. It was _cold_, the moisture bleeding through my gloves slightly. Just like we were really in a snowy clearing somewhere, instead of inside a mansion in the middle of August.

The details Hank put into his simulations were incredible. I was completely awestruck.

"This is amazing," I said, palming the snow. "Why'd you do this?"

He shrugged. "You just seemed to really like the simulation that one day, so I thought I'd make one for you," he explained. "Give you a little break from the heat. Do you like it?"

"Are you kidding?" I replied excitedly. "I _love_ this, Hank! Thank you. You're such a sweetheart."

He'd done it just for me.

_And he claimed he was bad at romance. Ha!_

"I'm glad you like it," he said, flushing sweetly.

An evil idea crossed my mind just then. Really, it was just too perfect. All this fresh powder was just _begging_ for a snowball fight.

I met his gaze and grinned. "Catch!" I laughed.

And then I threw the snowball I'd made, and hit him right in the chest.

For a second Hank just stared at me like he couldn't believe that had just happened. But then he recovered from his surprise.

"Hey!"

I giggled, turned, and ran for the trees. I was in trouble and I knew it.

And Hank was _fast_.

Before I'd even taken five steps I felt his hand slipping around my waist-

So I took drastic measures and let myself dissociate into heat, leaving him empty-handed.

"That's cheating!" he called, frantically rotating in place in an attempt to find me.

I pulled myself back together as he turned his back, snatched up another handful of snow, and lobbed it at the back of his head. He whirled around just in time to see me vanish again.

But this time I got too bold. My plan was to re-materialize and shove a handful of snow down Hank's shirt, but he tracked me somehow and grabbed me by the waist as soon as I reappeared.

Then he plopped a snowball right on top of my head, laughing maniacally.

"Nooooo!" I shrieked, squirming to get away. I did _not_ appreciate the tables being turned on me!

My escape attempts were pointless, though I could tell Hank was holding me very gently. But in my vehemence to get away we fell down. He twisted his body at the last second so I landed on him instead, breaking my fall.

I straddled his chest, looking down at him.

He had that purely- happy grin on his face, the one that lit up his handsome features and made my stomach do back-flips.

All of the love I had for him came rushing up as we looked into each other's eyes.

I'd been waiting for Hank to say "I love you" first, but in that moment, as he looked up at me with those big blue eyes and his cheeks all rosy from the cold, I realized that it would need to be me who took that big leap. Raven had broken his heart too badly for him to risk it again like that.

_Take a chance,_ I told myself. _You won't know how he feels for you unless you try._

"I love you," I whispered, giving him a hopeful smile.

Hank actually stopped breathing for a moment. I could see the emotions play across his face- surprise, disbelief, and then a pure, unadulterated joy.

_Oh, Hank. How could I not love you?_

"I love you too, Zoey."

It felt like I could fly. He loved me! This wonderful man loved me, and my smile was exultant as I leaned down and kissed him. I felt his own emotions mirroring the joy I poured into the kiss, returning everything I gave to him in equal measure.

_You have my heart, and I have yours. _

_I promise I won't break it._


	11. Trouble in Paradise

_Author's note: Thank you to NotMarge, kmj1989, partygirl98, and anonymouscsifan for the reviews! So for today- everybody remember Hank's nightmare about Zoey freaking out over Beast? This is what actually happened on the night he has his nightmare, before his subconscious took the real events and twisted them all up. Hank suspects how Zoey feels about their problems, but I thought it would be good to see from her POV. She's miles away from Hank's thinking, and she has no idea. Hence the name :-(_

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><p><strong>Trouble in Paradise<strong>

Six wonderful months passed- the happiest six months I could ever remember living. And it all came down to the presence of Hank in my life.

Because of him, Olivia was now _thriving_ in school, making friends and learning how to control her telepathy. I'd made new friends through him as well. Sean, his girlfriend Maeve, Charles, Moira and even_ Alex_ were now my friends, something that wouldn't have happened had I not met Hank.

And then, of course, there was our actual relationship. He healed my heart without even trying, helped me move on from my grief over my dad. There were still days that I thought about him, yes, but it was with fondness rather than with sadness. For the first time in a long while I was thinking of the future, rather than dwelling on the past.

I fell more and more deeply in love with Hank as the months flew by. I loved how he opened doors for me and how he sat patiently while I watched football, even though he didn't really care for the sport much. He was a fantastic listener, and always seemed to be able to tell when I actually wanted advice or just needed to vent to someone about work.

He was the most wonderful man I'd ever met. He made me happy, and I did everything I could to make him happy in return. I liked to think I was succeeding in that regard.

And yet... as the months passed, and the love between us grew, I felt the weight of Hank's secret weighing down on both of us.

All I could to was wait, and hope, that one day he would trust me enough to show me Beast.

* * *

><p>On a typically cold day in February, Hank sat himself comfortably on the couch watching television while I baked some cookies for fun. He'd lived up to his promise all those months ago and taught me how to bake, even though I still couldn't cook much else.<p>

In a little bit I was going to humor him and play a game of chess or two before we curled up in front of the fire, which kept the February chill at bay. We were in for a very nice evening of just being together.

Everything was wonderful... except for the fact that all my cookies kept disappearing.

It seemed like every time I pulled out a batch, a third of them would vanish without a trace. At first I thought I was imagining it, but then I took the time to count them out before turning my back on them.

And when I looked again, I was missing four cookies.

"Where are all my cookies going?" I asked blankly.

My gaze turned towards Hank, the only other person in the apartment. He shifted guiltily as I stared at the back of his head, like he could feel me scowling at him while he pretended to watch television.

_Blasted cookie thief._

"Hank!" I yelled, stomping over to stand next to the sofa.

"Yes, sweetheart?" he asked, glancing up at me with an innocent expression.

It wasn't _fair_, how cute he was.

I knew he was the one who stole those cookies, but those big baby blues looking at me from behind his nerdy-looking glasses made me doubt myself. _"Would I lie to you?"_ they seemed to ask.

_Hmm..._

If he was going to plead ignorance, I needed definitive proof of his guilt.

So I stopped glaring at him and leaned down to kiss him instead.

He responded immediately, of course. Neither of us could really resist the opportunity to thoroughly kiss the other, and I reveled in the power I had over him- the same power he had over me. If anything, my attraction to him had only deepened over the passing months.

Now whenever Hank kissed me I completely melted and forgot everything that was going on around me. My heart always started pounding in my chest, like it was going to burst into flames from the pure exhilaration of being so close to him.

His hand reached up to stroke my cheek, sending delicious little pinpricks along my skin. I bit his lip, and his tongue sneaked into my mouth-

I immediately pulled away, though it was extremely difficult. "Stop stealing cookies, Hank!" I scolded triumphantly, poking him in the chest.

"What?" he asked, still pretending ignorance.

"Oh, stop it. I can taste them on your breath."

He'd been caught and he knew it, if his expression was anything to go by.

"You were kissing me for investigative purposes? I'm wounded," Hank teased, with feigned injury. "They're delicious, Zoey, so I can't help it. My compliments to your baking skills."

I rolled my eyes, but his flattery was working its magic. I couldn't resist a compliment like that, especially about something I'd worked so hard to learn how to do. He pressed his advantage and pulled me down into his lap while I fought back a smile.

"Maybe I had a good teacher," I said mischievously, making myself comfortable. I loved being on his lap- it made it easier to kiss him senseless.

Hank grinned and pulled me in for another kiss, this one slow and intense. One of his hands came up to thread through my hair to hold me in place. I moaned as his tongue started to tease mine and adjusted myself, so I was straddling his lap instead. His fingers traced along my skin and he pulled me closer still.

I never thought I could feel this way about someone.

Everything about Hank McCoy was appealing to me- his intelligence, his patience, the sweetness with which he treated me that somehow complemented, rather than contradicted, the passion with which he kissed me. Sometimes it scared me, how much I wanted him.

Everywhere he touched me felt like it was on fire. Our kisses were languid and feverish, building up a slow burn that would consume us both.

Hank moved away from my mouth to leave a trail of soft kisses up my neck. I squirmed in delight and dug my fingers into his hair, bringing his lips back to mine for another passionate kiss-

And then he pulled away from me, abruptly breaking off the kiss and interrupting our little make out session.

His breathing was ragged and he had a tight grip on my waist, a silent warning not to move.

It was a warning I didn't need anymore. I knew the drill by now- me moving against his lap in any way, or even reaching out to touch him made it harder to rein himself in. And I respected him too much to try to undermine his efforts in that regard, so I stayed still. I couldn't bring myself to sabotage his self-control and force him to show me Beast.

Hank kept his eyes closed as he took deep, calming breaths to bring himself back under control.

I waited quietly, experiencing the same unreasonable sense of hurt and resentment I felt every time he pulled away from me like this.

_He started it!_ I unfairly fumed in my head.

Even though I knew Hank had his reasons, that he really did _want_ me like that, it still reflexively, automatically stung. I was human, after all. We're not always rational beings.

What stung even worse was the fact that Hank still didn't trust me enough to show me his Beast form, even after all this time. It was a major road block to any further progress in our relationship, and I worried about it sometimes alone in the dark, at night after Hank went home.

Did this mean he didn't see a future with me? After all, I knew Beast would be an inevitable part of our lives if we wanted more physical intimacy. And by now I could honestly see myself being with Hank for the rest of my life.

But it seemed like he didn't think I could still love him after seeing his feral half, and that scared me.

I did my best not to think about it most of the time, and instead focused on the present. How much we loved each other, how happy we made each other. But that didn't stop the niggling thoughts in the back of my head from festering like splinters.

_No. Hank loves me, and he'll show me Beast_ _some day__,_ I told myself firmly._ He just needs more time, that's all._

Hank finally opened his eyes, now calm once more.

"I'm sorry," he said sheepishly, just like always.

"It's fine," I replied. The words were stiff, like I was reciting them by rote and didn't even mean them anymore.

But I knew getting frustrated at him would accomplish nothing. It would just make him defensive, and that wouldn't help the situation at all. This was a decision he had to make on his own.

Patient.

I kept telling myself that I had to be patient, and eventually he would trust me. The doubting voices in my head needed to _shut up_.

"I love you," I murmured, trying to make up for my snippy tone.

Hank leaned in to press a chaste kiss to my forehead. "I love you," he told me fervently.

He was telling the truth, I knew he was. I could see it in his eyes when he said the words, every kiss and caress he gave me. Hank loved me with all his heart.

I removed myself from his lap and snuggled against his side instead, closing my eyes and breathing in his fresh, clean scent. Hank held me close, burying his nose in my hair.

_Just enjoy the moment right now. He'll show me eventually._

I had to believe that, because I refused to even consider the alternative.

Losing Hank didn't bear thinking of.


	12. An End to Dreams

_Author's note: Thank you to NotMarge, partygirl98, anonymouscsifan, kmj1989 and Rasha007 for the reviews! Poor Zoey, right? And it's going to get worse, folks. This installment is Chapters 35 and 36, also known as the chapter where my readers panicked a little. At least we all know it ends up ok, right? ;-)_

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><p><strong>An End to Dreams<strong>

"Are you alright, Hank?" I asked. "You seem quiet- I mean, quieter than usual."

It was the next day. We were in the Danger Room again, laying comfortably in a sunny meadow blanketed with sweet grass and blue primroses. It was another simulation Hank had written for me once winter took hold.

I still couldn't believe he thought he was bad at romance. I'd never met someone who was _more_ romantic than he was.

Hank was currently sprawled out on his back on a blanket with my head on his stomach. I was reading _The Three Musketeers_ to him in French as we had a little picnic.

It was quite lovely, spending time with him like this, but today he seemed ill at ease, distracted. It made me worry for him. Was he thinking about last night? Had my tone upset him?

"Hank?" I repeated when he didn't answer. I raised my head off his stomach.

"I'm fine," he replied, brushing his fingers through my hair. "Just enjoying listening to you."

I flushed at the compliment. He always made me feel all weak-in-the-knees and gooey on the inside when he said things like that.

"I love you," Hank said suddenly.

"I love you too, Hank," I told him, smiling. "Ready for _Star Trek_?"

He rolled his eyes. "Sure."

Within minutes we were walking to the garage, arm-in-arm.

"I'll agree that I do enjoy the show, but I contend that my fondness for _Star Trek_ mostly stems from the fact that I mentally associate it with you," Hank said.

I laughed. He knew the show was as amazing as I claimed it was, he just didn't want to admit I was right. That had to be a male thing, honestly.

"All I heard in that statement is that I was right and you like it now," I teased, squeezing his arm.

He let out a feigned exasperated sigh. "If it makes you happy to think that," he conceded.

And then we both laughed. I turned my face up for a kiss, which Hank leaned down to provide-

"Well look at you two little lovebirds," a female voice said from up ahead of us.

Hank froze, his eyes suddenly wide with- fear? His expression immediately put me on my guard. Who would make him look like that-?

A woman suddenly stepped into our view. She was tall and sleek, moving towards us with an almost reptilian grace. Her skin was a deep, striking blue, and her brassy red hair was slicked back against her head. Her eyes were yellow.

But despite the vibrancy of the hue, there was no warmth in her gaze. It actually reminded me a little of a crocodile's stare.

She was also stark naked, with only some scales to cover her naughty bits. I was almost tempted to jerk Hank around and tell him "eyes up _here._"

Who was this woman?

"Raven," Hank greeted her, with a curt nod.

"Mystique," she corrected immediately.

Raven Darkholme.

This was the woman who broke Hank's heart and left her own brother bleeding on a foreign beach. Her genes had forever changed Hank's...

He'd finally told me about her a few months ago. How he fell for her the moment he saw her, how they'd bonded over their own self-hatred for their physical mutations. The mental wounds had healed to the point where he could objectively tell me how the signs were there that she'd begun to change her mind (like when she started throwing every compliment Hank self-consciously paid her right back in his face), but he was just too blind to see how different their lines of thinking were becoming. And then, when they finally confronted each other about it, he was so frustrated that he said some rather cruel things to her.

Funny that he didn't mention the fact that she liked to walk around naked, though. Unless this was a new thing for her?

"Hello, Beast," Raven said, with a smile that didn't reach her eyes at all. "Hiding again, I see. Never could accept yourself, could you?"

Hank shifted uncomfortably. "What're you doing here, Mystique? Does your brother know you're here?"

He sounded very wary of her, like he expected her to strike like a snake at any moment.

"Oh, yes," she replied in a smarmy tone. "We just had a little chat and I'm on my way out."

Her attention suddenly turned to me. I gripped Hank's arm harder.

"Who's your little friend?" she asked. Though she was looking right at me, the question was addressed to Hank.

_How rude._

"This is my girlfriend," Hank replied. "Zoey."

Rather than pushing me forward to properly greet the other woman, he subtly pulled his arm backward so he was slightly between Raven and myself.

_He doesn't trust her._

"Hello, Mystique," I said quietly.

"Does she know about you?" Raven asked, ignoring the pleasantry. Her face became a mask of feigned innocence. "The _real_ you? Or do you lie to her and hide yourself like you do to the rest of the world?"

Hank lowered his eyes to the floor, the shame and guilt evident in his expression.

My heart leaped into my throat and stayed there, choking me. What was _that_ reaction about? Did that mean he planned to never show me his other side?

Raven shook her head, her gaze becoming even colder, if that was possible. "What a waste," she hissed. "So much power and beauty, and you hide behind your petty desire to be _normal_. You could be extraordinary if only you-"

Her words were pure poison.

I'd always worried, in the back of my mind, that Hank might still have lingering feelings for Raven deep down. She was his first love, after all.

But no more, not after meeting her. He may have cared for the person Raven _used_ to be, but there was no way he could love someone who was now so cruel. No. I refused to believe that.

And I refused to let her tear him down like this.

"Hank _is_ extraordinary," I cut in, knowing that my cheeks were burning. "Don't judge him just because he wants to be known for _who_ he is, rather than _what_ he is."

"Some of us don't have that choice," she retorted. "So I _will_ judge him, little girl."

"There's no need for-" Hank began sharply, rising to my defense.

But I put my hand on his shoulder to quiet him. I didn't need his assistance on this one.

_No choice?_

Suddenly I felt a swell of compassion for this woman. Her only form of self-identity came from being a mutant. She couldn't even move on from what other people saw her as, to show them that there was more to her than her looks, because for her there _wasn't_.

She was just Mystique, the mutant. Not Mystique the lover, the friend or even Mystique the book-lover or something.

_What a narrow view to take of one's own self._

I barely noticed Hank's confused expression as I looked at the blue woman in front of us.

"Our genes, our appearances, aren't all that we are," I told her calmly. "I'm sorry that you feel your mutation is the only way you can identify yourself. I hope one day you can see more to yourself than just what the world perceives in you. Now, please excuse me."

And with that, I squeezed Hank's hand and walked away. I kept my head held high as I passed by Raven, showing her I wasn't afraid.

But as soon as I was in the garage I let myself go to pieces for just a moment. That confrontation was awful, hearing Raven destroy Hank like that.

And the look on his face when she accused him of hiding from me...

A shiver of dread passed over me.

_We need to talk_.

"Zoey, I-" Hank began, magically appearing at my side.

He seemed to be an utter loss for words.

"Please take me home," I said finally, when he could think of nothing to say.

"Ok."

There was an awkward silence between us as he drove us back to my apartment. Hank seemed worried, while I... I couldn't speak for the lump in my throat.

I _had_ to know, but I was terrified of finding out the answer.

"Zoey, what's wrong?" Hank blurted out as soon as we were sitting on my sofa. "Did Raven upset you?"

"Well, she _was_ very naked, which was a surprise," I said calmly, petting Lucie. The cats had descended upon us as soon as we sat down. "And I didn't appreciate the things she said to you, if that's what you mean. But those are just words. I'll get over it."

"Then what...?"

_Here goes. Please, Hank, please don't break my heart._

My eyes met his, so pinched and fearful behind his glasses.

"When are you going to show me Beast?"

His breath hissed through his teeth. "W-why do you ask?"

"The look on your face when Raven accused you of hiding from me," I explained. "You looked so... guilty."

Hank's ears got red, and he couldn't even look at me anymore.

I felt my heart crack just a little.

"Hank," I pleaded earnestly, taking his hands. He squirmed. "I've been patient, waiting for you to be ready to show me your other side. I thought that eventually you would understand that I love you, and I want to accept you for everything you are. But somehow I get the feeling that you're never going to let me see."

_Tell me I'm wrong, Hank. Tell me that you're ready. Or if you're still not, ask me for more time. I'll give you more time, I'll be patient. Just don't-_

He stared at our entwined hands morosely. "I can't," he whispered.

_No!_

I pulled my hands away, feeling the sting of his words like a knife to my gut.

"Why not?" I asked, trying desperately not to cry. "Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do," he replied quickly.

"Then I don't understand," I said. "If you trust me, you should be comfortable showing me."

It was simple logic, wasn't it? Why couldn't he see?

"You'll be afraid of me," he told me. He looked terrified. "I would lose you. I couldn't bear it if that happened."

"But how do you know, Hank?" I demanded. "How do you _know_ I'll be afraid of you?"

"Because it's too much for _anyone_ to handle," he snapped, instantly defensive. "I disgust myself. You wouldn't understand, Zoey. You've never been afraid of who you are."

My temper immediately flared. How _dare_ he? No one had ever made fun of me, but I certainly knew what it was like to be terrified of my own powers.

"Hank, you know that when I was little I set random things on fire whenever I threw temper tantrums. I nearly burned down my father's house and killed us all. I told you that before," I snapped.

I could feel the angry tears running down my face, but I couldn't stop them.

"So don't tell me I don't know what it's like to be afraid of my powers. And don't tell me what's going to frighten me. You don't get to decide what scares me, _I do_. You-"

I was outright yelling at him now, and I knew that wouldn't help anything. It would just make him _more_ defensive. I looked away from Hank, trying to calm myself down.

We'd never argued like this before. Nothing even _close_.

I'd thought it was because we were so well-suited for each other, but now I realized that we- _I_- had been just living in this bubble pretending that everything was fine. But the reality was we were just tiptoeing around this issue. It had been staring us in the face the entire time.

What good was all of my patience and waiting if he refused to change his mind? I'd thought that if I showed him how much I loved him, he would eventually start to love himself, too. But maybe... maybe my opinion didn't matter like that.

"You really disgust yourself?" I whispered, swallowing the pain of my own disillusionment.

Hank nodded, his jaw so tight I thought he might be gritting his teeth.

"I love you, Hank," I said quietly. "I _want_ you. You don't disgust me. Do you think there's something _wrong_ with me for that? Do you hate yourself that much? Would you think I was some kind of pervert if I still wanted you in your Beast form?"

He didn't answer, so I pressed on.

"What do I have to do to show you how wonderful you are?" I pleaded. "Please, give me the chance to love all of you. It won't change how I feel about you. Just take a chance and show me."

I held my breath, waiting.

And then he said the words that crushed me.

"I can't," Hank choked out, shaking his head. "What happened to what you said to Raven, about choosing our own self-identifiers? Our mutations not defining who we are? Well, this is my choice. You're trying to force me to be something I don't want to be."

It was like he punched me.

"You're right," I whispered, horrified. "I am."

_I can't force him like that. And he's never going to choose to show me. Which means... there's nothing I can do, is there?_

"Do you ever see us getting married?" I asked.

His long silence was answer enough.

Even if he _had_ considered it, such a thing was impossible if he refused to show me his other side. What sort of marriage would it be if he couldn't share all of himself with me, the way I wanted to with him?

In that moment, all of my dreams and hopes imploded. It felt like someone set off a nuclear bomb in my chest, leaving only emptiness and desolation behind.

I was never going to grow old with Hank. We weren't going to get married and wake up next to each other every morning. I wasn't going to give myself completely to him.

Because he didn't want any of it.

A sob worked its way out of my throat. "Hank, I want a future with you," I told him. "Marriage, children, the white picket fence, all of it. B-but we both know we can barely make out without you almost losing it and changing into Beast. And that's not who you want to be. We're- we're at an impasse."

Now I really started to cry. I had to hide my face from him- I couldn't let him see how much this hurt me.

"I-I think I'd rather end this now, if there's no future for us. Maybe it'll hurt less than d-dragging it out."

At that moment I highly doubted it could hurt any more than it already did. But what was the point of it all? I would lose him eventually, because I wanted more. I wanted all of him, to give him all of me. But he didn't want that. It was better this way.

Wasn't it?

"Zoey, please- don't do this," Hank begged.

"I have to."

And then he pulled me against his chest, enveloping me in his arms. I think he was trying to comfort me, but it really just made me cry harder.

Because it felt so _right_ to be in his arms, like I belonged there. I loved him so much-

And it didn't even matter in the end.

"I love you," Hank whispered desperately. I felt him caressing my hair.

"I love you, too," I replied, clutching at him.

_Don't go. Please stay. Change your mind-_

"I- I thought you were-"

_My Prince Charming._

He'd rescued me from my grief about my father's death. He was my hero, in that sense. I thought we'd go off happily into the sunset together.

But there would be no fairy tale ending for us, after all.

"I know," Hank murmured brokenly. "I'm so sorry."

Then he kissed me on the forehead-

And left me alone.


	13. Reunion

_Author's note: Thank you to NotMarge, Muirgen79, partygirl98, anonymouscsifan, and kmj1989 for the reviews! Phew, heartbreak chapter is over! Now we get the reunion, just in time for Valentine's Day. Happy Valentine's Day, everybody!_

* * *

><p><strong>Reunion<strong>

I spent the next three days moping and completely wallowing in my misery.

Gwen came over Monday, despite my vehement protests, after work and brought me ice cream. But I definitely wasn't good company at all, unable to do much but sit in a sorrowful silence with tears leaking out of my eyes.

A few days' distance from the break up hadn't done much to assuage my pain. It still felt like there was a hole in my chest, like a Hank-sized piece of me was missing.

So for a while Gwen just held me while I cried and even offered to go beat Hank up for me.

"He's a big marshmallow," she said, trying to coax a smile out of me. "I could take him."

It _almost_ worked, picturing Gwen smacking Hank around while he did nothing to defend himself. He was too much of a gentleman to fight back, feral instincts not withstanding.

"Don't bother," I muttered disconsolately. "I'm not angry with him, Gwenny. We just... he made a choice, and I have to respect that."

The more I thought about it, the more I realized how stupid I'd been. Hank never told me he would show me Beast one day- that was something I'd just assumed on my own. If anything, I was angry with _myself_ for presuming and not just asking for the truth earlier.

"I couldn't force him to be something he didn't want to be," I added, fighting back the tears of impotent fury at this whole awful situation. "Even if it- hurts-"

And then I started sobbing all over again, until I had to ask her to leave. I knew Gwen was just trying to help, but I hated crying in front of people, burdening them with my problems.

I just wanted to be alone and miserable.

After Gwen left I sat there staring at my melting ice cream on the coffee table for a while, hugging a sofa pillow and trying to catch the last fading vestiges of Hank's scent from it.

How many nights had we sat together on this sofa talking to each other or watching television? I remembered the laughter, the debates we'd get into over something or other, the primroses, the kisses... I remembered how Hank would hold me and whisper that he loved me for no other reason than he just wanted me to know. I remembered it all like the keen edge of a knife to the heart.

I missed him. I missed him _so much_, but I knew there was nothing I could do. I wasn't going to be with someone who was never going to share all of himself with me, and that was that.

_Stupid, stupid man! Why can't you see how wonderful you are? Why couldn't you trust that I would love you anyway?_

_Whatever. I'll find someone else,_ I bitterly tried to tell myself._ Eventually._

But deep down I knew that I didn't want someone else.

I wanted Hank. I think a tiny part of me knew, deep down, that he was _the one._ No one else was ever going to come close to him. So if I couldn't have him-

_Better go adopt more cats and resign myself to my fate,_ I thought dejectedly. _I've already got the slippers, maybe I should buy a housecoat. If I'm going to be a crazy cat woman, I should do it thoroughly-_

A knock sounded at the door, startling me out of my melancholy thoughts.

_Who could it be at this hour? It's after ten._

I got up and quietly approached, grabbing my baseball bat on the way just in case.

"Who is it?" I called through the door.

"I-it's me. Hank."

I cursed my traitorous heart for the way it stuttered at just the sound of his voice.

For a moment I contemplated refusing to speak to him. Hank had made his choice. Seeing him again, when he wasn't mine anymore, would only hurt me more.

_Unless..._

I put the bat down and opened the door.

And there he was, my sweetheart, standing there on my front step looking utterly lost.

There were dark shadows under his eyes, like he hadn't been sleeping, and his hair was still wet and adorably ruffled, as if he'd just gotten out of the shower before coming here. He looked so good it hurt.

I was suddenly _very_ aware of the fact that I looked like a complete mess while standing in front of my ex-boyfriend. I was even wearing the fluffy bunny slippers Gwen got me as a gag gift last Christmas.

_Perfect, just perfect. Show him what a proud, strong woman you are, why don't you?_

"H-hi," Hank said awkwardly.

"Hi," I replied, barely able to speak past the pain of seeing him. I tried to swallow it down. "What are you doing here, Hank?"

_Dammit,_ I thought, as my voice broke on his name.

"I came to apologize, and talk," he explained. "C-can I come in?"

_Apologize? Talk? Could he-?_

The hope that suddenly bubbled up, from a place so deep I hadn't even known it existed, shocked me. Hope has a funny way of doing that, though- showing up and surprising you when you think all is lost. The human race, I think, is secretly comprised of eternal optimists.

I nodded and let him in. He moved towards the living room, and I followed.

Hank stood there looking anxious, like he was about to fly to pieces.

Meanwhile, I was trying to keep a lid on my own emotions. The hope that maybe we could make things right, the agony of seeing him again, the resentment that he couldn't trust me enough to-

"I'm sorry," he blurted out.

I stared at him.

"I'm sorry for hiding from you for all this time and believing that you would be afraid of me," Hank continued. "It was an injustice to you, thinking you would be that shallow when you've done nothing but show me the complete opposite the entire time I've known you. I've been- _so_ scared to lose you. But now I realize that if I don't show you Beast, I've lost you anyway. And I can't- I can't-"

He took a deep breath.

"I can't handle being without you. These past few days have been _agony_, Zoey," he told me. "You said you want a chance to love all of me, and I want that, too."

It was all I could do to keep from throwing myself into his arms. This was exactly what I wanted to hear from him- _all_ of it. He missed me! He wanted to give me what I asked for!

But at the same time, it seemed like I'd emotionally blackmailed Hank into this. And I couldn't bear that on my conscience.

"But I thought that's not who you want to be," I retorted quietly.

_Tell me I'm wrong. Please-_

Hank hesitantly stepped closer and took my hands in his, like he rather expected me to slap him away.

But I didn't. That little bubble of hope in my chest was getting bigger and bigger, and I wanted to hear him out.

"Beast is _me_, and _I_ am Beast," Hank said. "The strong instinct to protect you, the rage I feel sometimes, how I _want_ you so much it's hard to think of anything else-"

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks at that admission. He'd never outright said something like that, and it felt like a balm soothing the sting of rejection from every time he'd pushed me away before.

"-I've blamed it on Beast, because I've always clung to logic and reason, trying to be a scientist first. But I'm starting to realize that the things I feel are just _normal_. Part of being human. Maybe they're a lot more intense for me because I'm a feral, but part of being human is controlling the impulses we get. Alex, of all people, pointed that out to me," he explained, with a wry grin that made my heart flutter.

I smiled faintly in return.

"So, you can't force me to be something I already am," Hank announced. "I'm always the same person on the inside, even if my face is different."

_Yes!_

He was _finally _accepting the other part of himself. Not because of he had to for me, but because he'd come to the realization on his own that it was an inescapable part of him.

But how did he feel about it?

"But do you still hate yourself?" I asked.

Hank stopped smiling and stared down at our entwined hands instead.

"Well, you like me. At least you _did_," he muttered. "And you're the smartest person I know. So I'll trust your judgment."

That startled me into laughter.

It wasn't a "no," but at least he was going to trust my opinion and not consider me deficient somehow for loving him. We could work on the rest later.

_Later. There's going to be a later for us, together..._

"That's a start, at least. I'll take it," I murmured. I could feel my eyes prickling again. "Oh, Hank. I missed you so much."

And then I threw myself into his arms and started crying again, unable to stop the tears from flowing. Hank held me tightly, like he never wanted to let me go. And frankly, I had no problem with that.

"Me, too," he croaked, like he was about to cry himself.

For a few minutes I didn't want to move. I just wanted Hank to hold me forever- or at least until I got over the fear of losing him again.

_So yeah. Forever._

But finally I composed myself. I stood on tiptoe to give him a kiss before pulling away and wiping my eyes. The self-consciousness and embarrassment of crying in front of another person suddenly came back full-force.

"I must look a mess," I mumbled, sniffling.

"I don't care," Hank replied. "You're beautiful to me anyway."

Not a denial, then. But still a compliment. It was very _him._

I had to laugh.

Hank took a deep breath, like he was gathering his courage. "I don't want to hide from you anymore, Zoey," he said calmly.

I nodded, immediately apprehensive.

This was it.

He was finally going to show me his other side, and I couldn't help being a little afraid. What if he was right? What if I _couldn't_ handle it? I would break his heart, and mine, all over again.

Hank stepped back and closed his eyes, before I could reconsider anything. A shiver passed over him, and then-

His skin turned blue, and blue fur sprouted all over his body. His eyeteeth became fangs and his nails grew into claws. He went from being lean and lanky to suddenly having biceps that were thicker than my thighs.

Despite the change in his appearance, I could still see his handsome features through it all. The straight nose, the angular cheekbones, the quirky eyebrows and full lips- it was all there. All the same. But the quiet strength I'd always sensed in him was now visible to the naked eye, instead of hidden beneath the surface.

He looked _different_... and yet, somehow, he was still my Hank. And I was still desperately attracted to him.

"Oh, Hank!" I squealed.

_Nothing has changed for me at all._


	14. Marry Me

_Author's note: Thank you to NotMarge, partygirl98, anonymouscsifan, Muirgen79, Rasha007, and kmj1989 for the reviews! This is the rest of that scene- the proposal and all that. I had to split it in two or else it would've been ridiculously long. Here goes!_

* * *

><p><strong>Marry Me<strong>

Suddenly I couldn't stop laughing. After months of wondering, and three days of agony after our break up because of the mystery of his Beast form, I felt completely weak-boned and absolutely giddy from relief.

_This is it? I can totally handle this!_

Hank opened his eyes just in time to react when I jumped into his arms, catching me easily around the waist while I threw my arms around his neck. He lifted me off the ground completely.

I kissed him right on the mouth, just because he was mine again and I could. Hank didn't respond before I pulled away, but I forgave him that because he seemed to still be in shock. And maybe he thought I'd gone insane, based on the laughter.

His eyes were absolutely gorgeous- gold, except for a ring of orange around the edges of his irises. I felt like I could stare at them in wonder all day, watching the facets practically glow at me in the lamp light.

I reached up to stroke his face, feeling the soft texture of his skin as he leaned into my hand, like he was savoring my touch.

The hair that grew under his cheekbones and covered his chin was soft like his skin, too- much softer than I expected a beard to be. I had to resist the temptation to rub my face against his, to see if it tickled.

"You're _beautiful_, Hank," I told him honestly.

The exultant look in his eyes broke my heart. He'd just been _so_ afraid that I would reject him. But at least now he could revel in the relief and the joy of acceptance.

For a moment Hank couldn't speak. He just buried his face against my neck and held me tight. A sigh of relief so deep it was almost a sob escaped his lips.

I understood what he was trying to say- his gratitude, his love. He didn't need words to tell me exactly what he was feeling.

"Shh, it's ok," I assured him, feeling him shake slightly. I stroked the fur on the back of his neck soothingly. "I love you."

_Don't ever leave me again! You're mine, and I'm yours. I'm not letting you go-_

Hank suddenly pulled back so my eyes could meet his. He was still holding me so my feet didn't touch the ground- which was actually rather fitting, in a way. At the moment I was so euphoric I'd probably float if he tried to put me down anyway.

"Will you marry me?"

_Did he really just say that?_

My mouth fell open in surprise.

This was so impulsive and unlike him that I could hardly believe it. I had a feeling it was because he was afraid of losing me again. Or maybe, now the last obstacle between us was gone, he felt there was no need to wait on starting our happily after.

Maybe we were a fairy tale couple, after all. I was the proverbial "Beauty" to his "Beast." The only difference was that Hank wasn't under some magic spell to be broken after a declaration of love, and I was perfectly ok with that.

I'd always had a problem with that part of the story when I was younger anyway. If Beauty loved Beast the way he was, what was the point in him turning into a "handsome prince?" It implied that there was something _wrong_ with the way he looked that needed to be changed in the first place.

No, my "Beast" could stay a beast for all I cared. I loved him, no matter what.

"I love you, Zoey. I've loved you since the moment I first saw you," Hank explained earnestly. "I want to spend the rest of my life loving all of you and _being_ loved by you. Please, marry me?"

I didn't even need to think about it. I knew exactly what I wanted already, for the rest of my life: him.

"Yes," I said, nodding. "Yes, I'll marry you."

His answering smile- fangs, blue skin and all- gave me butterflies. So really, it was like nothing had changed at all.

* * *

><p>We ended up snuggled together on the couch, just enjoying being together again after the pain of our separation. Hank had one arm around me while I stroked his palm, examining his claws and the light layer of fur dusted across the back of his hand.<p>

Hank had just finished telling me that Charles prodded Alex into giving him a pep talk in return for a new engine for his Camaro. I laughed and admitted that I needed to thank him at some point for giving Hank the push he needed.

I was_ far_ too happy to complain about any selfish motives Alex may or may not have had.

"Ok," Hank agreed absently.

He reached up and ran his hand through my hair, an awestruck expression on his face. I had to fight back a shiver of delight as his claws lightly skated across my scalp.

_I never thought claws would be a turn-on, but there you go._

Hank looked so amazed that I wasn't flinching away that it bothered me.

"You don't scare me, Hank," I said firmly. I turned slightly so I could cradle his face in my hands. "You look like a cuddly blue teddy bear."

_Only much sexier._

I leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose to punctuate the point.

"So you have a thing for teddy bears?" he quipped sardonically.

That stung.

What was he trying to say? That I wasn't supposed to find him attractive anymore? That I had to have some sort of fetish for wanting him like this?

If that wasn't offensive, I didn't know what was.

The only excuse I could think of was if Hank meant for the comment to be self-deprecating. A joke that stemmed from a lifetime of insecurity on his part, rather than an insult to my standards of what I found attractive.

In that case, we had some work to do. I wasn't going to let him talk so badly of himself, _especially_ when it could be construed as bad judgment on my part. My pride wouldn't allow that.

I scowled and shook his head in a rebuke. "No," I said sharply. "I have a thing for _you_, Hank McCoy. My _fiance_."

He grinned weakly, immediately contrite after witnessing my vehemence. "My apologies, Dr. Dubois."

The thought distracted me from my annoyance.

Did I want to keep my last name, or change it? I had a Ph.D., after all, but I liked the idea of bearing Hank's name. Call me old-fashioned in that sense, I suppose. And luckily the only paper I'd published so far was my thesis, so it's not like I had a bunch of papers that would get lost in the transition if I changed my name...

_Dr. Zoey McCoy. Yes, I definitely like that._

"I guess there's going to be two Dr. McCoy's now, isn't there?" I mused, blushing.

"I guess so," Hank agreed with a grin.

_We're getting married! I'm marrying the man of my dreams._

I closed my eyes and turned my face up for a kiss, and Hank definitely didn't keep me waiting. The eager way he responded reminded me of how he said his _instincts_ were stronger in this form.

But then I forgot about thinking about things like that. Or anything at all, really.

Because it quickly became clear that Hank had been holding out on me in a big way in the make out department. Now, in this form, his reservations seemed to melt away like an ice cube stuck out on the sidewalk in summer.

Within seconds we'd adjusted so I was laying down on the sofa cushions, his weight pressing into me and making me feel like I was wonderfully surrounded by his presence. Hank's claws tangled into my hair as he kissed me with more passion than he ever had before.

I kissed him hungrily, fervently, with everything I had. I rejoiced that Hank wasn't holding back with me anymore- my past resentment of all the times he pulled away from me in those heated moments quickly vanished in the face of his new demonstration of ardor. Hank really did want me, after all. Now he could show me without fear.

My hands sneaked underneath his shirt to explore, and he made no protest. Dear Lord, he was ripped. The muscles beneath my fingertips were like iron and I felt like I would never get tired of touching him. My fingers skimmed along his chest and back, running through his fur along the way.

Hank's hands were wandering, too. His claws trailing across my stomach simultaneously gave me goosebumps and made it feel like liquid nitrogen was searing my veins.

_Too far. Now __I'm__ starting to lose it._

I broke away from the kiss with a gasp, so Hank started kissing down my chest instead. Didn't the man ever need to breathe?

"Hank," I choked out.

"Hmm?"

_Stop. Don't you dare stop,_ I thought as my traitorous fingers dug into the fur at the back of his neck, pressing him closer._ Wait- what?_

"I- I think we're getting a little- carried away."

Hank obediently pulled back, looking sheepish. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

He didn't even look me in the eyes as he settled back down onto the couch properly. I could tell he thought he'd pushed me too far and offended me somehow.

_Curse his gentlemanly behavior sometimes. Like I would ever believe he just proposed to get in bed with me, ha! I know him better than that._

"Stop brooding," I scolded, snuggling against him. "_I_ was the one getting too hot and bothered. That was _fun_."

And then I blushed like a tomato at the admission. Hank's feral side _definitely_ had its advantages.

"It was," he agreed.

"I'm looking forward to marrying you, Hank," I told him shyly.

Just the thought of what would happen on our wedding night between us warmed my over-heated skin all over again. And if Hank's face was any indication, he was thinking along the same lines.

_Think of... pure driven snow... ice cream... cold showers... Hank in the shower..._

_That's not helping!_

"Oh, your face is turning purple! That's _adorable!_"

If that didn't kill the sexual tension, nothing would.


	15. The Talk

_Author's note: Thank you to NotMarge, partygirl98, anonymouscsifan, and kmj1989 for the reviews! I picked this one because it's a good exploration of Zoey's thought process on a variety of subjects, and it was just a nice idea to know her ideas on certain things. It took me quite a while to write this chapter because I kept getting distracted by a certain Harry Potter website. Bad me, bad!_

* * *

><p><strong>The Talk<strong>

"I can't believe you made this sauce from scratch," I muttered, feeling dejected. "I'm jealous."

Hank was not only on the forefront of genetics research and an accomplished inventor to boot. He was also a fairly decent (ok, more than "fairly decent") cook. Was there anything he couldn't do?

_I would complain about the unfairness of life, but considering that I'm marrying him..._

"I officially vote that you do the cooking from now on," I announced.

Hank grinned and took a sip of Coke. "Billy actually suggested that. He called you a health hazard in the kitchen," he teased. "He also said not to tell you that."

My temper immediately flared. I'd been helping cook for Sunday dinner for years and neither Billy nor Marceline had ever complained that my cooking was _that _bad.

"Why does no one tell me these things?" I grouched, crossing my arms in disgust. "Now I'm mad at both of them."

"Both of them?" Hank asked mildly.

"I didn't appreciate Marceline smacking you for proposing without a ring."

Hank chuckled, but I didn't think it was all that funny. It wasn't Marceline's opinion that mattered on whether Hank had proposed "correctly" or not. It was mine.

"Livie yelled at me for that too," he commented dryly. "She told me the boy is supposed to get down on one knee and pull out a ring and ask the girl to marry him. I asked her to help me pick out a ring for you."

My face immediately warmed. "You don't have to do that," I assured him. "And your proposal was _perfect_, Hank. Honest and sincere, just like you. It was much more romantic than if you'd planned it out or something."

His ears turned red, and he looked away shyly at my compliment.

It irked me, that people were trying to tell Hank that he'd done it "wrong" somehow. There was no road map for how these things were done- my own parents were proof of that, weren't they?

"Everyone else can take their 'supposed to' and shove it," I muttered. "Maybe we should elope just to spite them all."

Hank's expression became rather bewildered. "Is that something you really want? To elope?"

An image of myself getting ready to walk down the aisle flashed in front of my eyes. White dress, shoes that made me at least three inches taller, pretty bouquet, friends and family watching me move towards Hank, who was practically glowing with happiness...

Once upon a time that would've been my dream wedding, but now I wasn't so sure. Part of me still yearned for it (how many times is a girl going to get married? Might as well do it properly) but another piece of me shied away from the idea.

I'd long ago accepted the fact that Maman wouldn't be there to help me plan my wedding, to give me last minute pieces of advice on married life.

But up until his cancer diagnosis, I'd always envisioned my father walking me down the aisle. And now that was never going to happen.

I shrugged in answer to Hank's question, focusing on my plate instead. I didn't want him see the flash of pain that was surely crossing my face at that moment as I thought about how my dad would never give me away at my wedding.

Why let Hank see that? It would only make him upset that he couldn't fix it for me.

Hank let out a deep sigh and stood up suddenly. I stared at him in confusion as he came around to my side of the table and knelt by my side.

"Hank?"

"You asked me to stop hiding from you, and I did," he said quietly, taking my hands in his. "Now I'm asking you to do the same and stop hiding when you're upset about something. You don't have to be strong for me, Zoey."

I frowned. What was he getting at?

"If you truly want to elope, I'll take you down to the courthouse and we'll get married tomorrow. But I have a feeling this is about your dad not being here to walk down the aisle. Isn't it?"

It was like he took a stick and poked me right on a throbbing, exposed nerve. My expression betrayed me before I could recover from him nailing the issue right on the head.

Hank plopped himself down (ok, not exactly plopped, he was much too agile for something like that) right on the floor and pulled me into his lap. The cats immediately surrounded us, of course, until he shooed them away.

"You can talk to me," he said gently.

_Ugh. Right for the heart._

How could I resist pouring my guts out with such sweet encouragement? Hank had a way of getting right under all my defenses and making me tell all my secrets, just by being himself. Maybe I _didn't_ have to be strong in front of him.

I tucked my face against his neck just because I felt it would be easier to be vulnerable if I couldn't see his eyes. "I want him here," I confessed. "I want them _both_ here for this, which is stupid, because I don't even remember Maman. But my dad-"

My breath caught for a second, as I was overcome by useless longing. It took me a moment to recover.

"And then I think about Billy and Marceline, and I know I shouldn't feel that way, because I know that they're here for me no matter what."

"I-I think you should feel however you want to feel," Hank murmured after a pause, stroking my hair. "There's nothing wrong with missing your parents."

_Missing my parents._

It made me wonder... Did Hank ever miss his?

He went to college in a far away city at a young age, and then gone to work for the CIA almost immediately after. As far as I knew, he hadn't even seen them since graduating nine years ago.

"Do you miss yours?" I asked aloud, pulling away so I could watch his expression.

I knew Hank's childhood hadn't been like mine. Daddy, Billy and Marceline, despite their initial surprise when I started setting things on fire at the age of eight, were very supportive and never let me doubt their love for a moment. Hank, on the other hand...

He was born with those amazing monkey-feet, and he grew up feeling like a disappointment to his parents. It broke my heart to think of Hank, so quiet and kind, feeling shunned by his own family. It wasn't _fair,_ the way they treated him, like he was a source of shame and guilt for something he was born with.

I had no doubt that Hank's desire for approval from his parents had motivated him to develop the serum that caused his second mutation. If only they'd accepted the son they had, he wouldn't have been driven to such lengths to please them.

"No," Hank replied quietly. "Though I suppose you could say I miss the _idea_ of what parents are supposed to be. People who love and support you unconditionally... I haven't truly experienced that. You can't miss something you never had in the first place."

I wrapped my arms around his neck. "Yes, you can," I disagreed.

He shrugged. "Family doesn't have to be genetic, and I'm happy with the one I've chosen," he said, brushing a curl back from my face. "You, Livie, Billy and Marceline, everyone at Xavier's... that's a better family than I could ever ask for."

It warmed my heart to hear him say that, but I couldn't stop myself from asking, "do you want your parents at the wedding?"

Hank shook his head. "If they wanted to see me, they could've picked up the phone at any point in the past nine years. I've made my peace with that."

For a moment I contemplating arguing with him. They were his _parents_, after all. He was their only child. Of course they should be at his wedding.

But then I realized that I had no right to impose my own opinion in this case. I didn't have his experiences. It had to be his decision.

_And besides. What would I even do if I saw Hank's parents? _

_Probably scream at them for not understanding what an absolute treasure their son is. Not exactly a good first impression to make on one's in-laws._

"Ok," I agreed finally.

For a moment all I could feel was an impotent rage at Mr. and Mrs. McCoy, for what they'd done to Hank. Sometimes emotional neglect left worse psychological scars than physical abuse.

_That will never happen to our children,_ I thought fiercely.

"I hope we make good parents, if we have kids," I said aloud, without thinking. "I want our children to grow up knowing they're loved no matter what."

"'Children?' More than one?" Hank asked lightly.

"Yes," I replied.

I knew I was blushing like crazy now. Was it time to have "The Talk?"

_Yeah, Hank. I want to have your babies one day. Haven't I mentioned that before?_

_Sometimes I want to shoot myself._

"Someday?"

"I'd like that," Hank agreed, grinning.

_Thank goodness._

"But first we need to figure out getting married and where we're going to live."

I knew living at Xavier's wasn't an option because of my cats, so it was really down to Hank moving into the apartment with me or finding a new place.

"We could live here," I offered. "Unless you want to buy a house. But I own this building, so..."

"You do?"

I nodded sheepishly. "It's a good little investment. Plus, I thought that it would be better than answering to a landlord, considering how often I set off the smoke alarm."

Hank started to chuckle.

"Oh- stop laughing!"

It took him _much_ too long to stop, in my opinion. I glowered at him until he quit.

"Let's wait on buying a house and live here, then," he said finally. "I already spend most of my time here anyway. Might as well make it official."

I giggled at the thought of waking up next to him every morning and kissed him on the cheek.

"Tell me what kind of wedding you want, Zoey," Hank urged, sounding very sincere. "I just want to make your dreams come true."

"You already have," I replied, smiling as his cheeks turned red.

And he really had. The world had been a brighter place since Hank walked into my life- not exactly on a white horse, but my Prince Charming all the same. I'd found a man who loved me for me, something that I'd worried would never happen. And maybe he was a little broken, but so was I.

We could be perfectly imperfect together, for the rest of our lives.

"I don't want a big wedding, Hank. Let's just have our friends and family with us. I wish my parents could be here, but... we should be glad for the family we have. The family we've chosen."

Hank nodded, though he still looked a little worried.

"I love you," I murmured.

"I love you," Hank said, kissing my temple.

And for a while I just enjoyed the moment, anticipating our future.

Together.


	16. Wedding Bells

_Author's note: Thank you to NotMarge partygirl98, anonymouscsifan, kmj1989, and ZabuzasGirl for the reviews! The beginning of today's installment is actually new material. I wanted to give the ladies a chance to shine, so here it is! :-)_

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><p><strong>Wedding Bells<strong>

I don't know how I would've planned our wedding, were it not for our wonderful friends and family.

Oh, Hank helped a little- or at least as much as a groom could be expected to help. He dutifully attended cake tastings and got fitted for a tuxedo, but got that rather glazed-over look in his eyes that I always associated with him mentally developing experimental protocol whenever I mentioned things like seating arrangements or decorations.

I didn't really mind Hank's disinterest, to be honest. It wasn't exactly riveting subject matter, and I found it exceedingly dull myself. Besides planning our honeymoon in France, which both of us were excited about for obvious reasons, I didn't care much (and neither did I have the time) for the tedious details of wedding planning.

For that reason, Moira Xavier was a godsend.

She was effusive with her assistance, immediately offering the use of the school grounds and her greenhouses for flowers the first time I saw her after Hank proposed. After I gave Moira a vague suggestion of cascading lights and a pretty gazebo, she whipped up a few conceptual plans within an hour. The woman was efficient to a fault and a visionary to boot, so I was more than happy to leave the bulk of the planning in her able hands.

_Honestly, the woman missed her calling. She should've been a wedding planner._

She was also a steadying, calm presence when it came time to go shopping for my wedding dress- a nice balance to Marceline's weepy enthusiasm, Maeve's horrid fashion sense, and Gwen's sarcasm.

Dress shopping was an excursion I was rather dreading. I wanted a great dress- something to knock Hank's socks off, metaphorically speaking- but I was afraid to shop for one. Picking out a wedding dress was an experience a bride was supposed to go through with her mother, and I obviously wasn't going to have that opportunity.

So I did the next best thing: I went shopping with the ladies I was closest to in my life.

* * *

><p>"Oh, <em>ma petite<em>!" Marceline gushed, dabbing her eyes. "That one's _perfect_!"

I winced. "That's what you said about the last four," I joked, playing with the poufy tulle skirt of the dress I was currently in.

Maeve had picked it out for me to try, and I put it on to humor her.

Even though I wouldn't be caught dead walking down the aisle in such a thing. I mean, it had a big fat bow on the back and organza flowers on the bodice. Thanks, but no thanks.

"What do you think, guys?" I asked hesitantly.

"You look like Cinderella," Maeve noted dreamily, completely starry-eyed.

_We know what kind of wedding dress you're going to want. Poor Sean._

"You look like a cupcake," Gwen snickered, earning herself a reproachful look from the bridal consultant who was helping us. "You're too short for that dress."

"It's pretty, but I don't think it's really 'you,'" Moira offered diplomatically, ever the voice of reason. "Maybe something less... fluffy?"

_Or less hideous? Yes, I have to agree._

I took that as a hint to put my foot down. Marceline, Gwen and Maeve had all gone berserk at the sight of all that taffeta and chiffon, and started shoving dresses at me to try before I even had a chance to look around myself. I couldn't say I saw eye-to-eye with their sense of style though.

"Yeah, maybe," I agreed. "I kinda always pictured myself in something lace, actually."

And everyone scattered to fulfill my request before I even finished my sentence. I rather felt like I'd walked into a scavenger hunt and simply hadn't gotten the memo.

It was Gwen who ultimately pulled _the_ dress, a lace one with a sweetheart neckline and a high-low hem that ended in a chapel-length train. I always expected myself to go for a dress with a more traditional silhouette, but something about that one just spoke to me. It might've been how it was still formal without the possibility of me tripping over the front of it on my way down the aisle.

Wearing that, I felt like a _bride._

A bride who could wear some killer shoes on her wedding day.

_I'm going to be tall! Sorta._

"Oh, _ma petite_-" Marceline began, but then she broke into sobs.

"Perfect," Gwen announced smugly. "Hank's going to die when he sees you."

_Oh, I hope not._

"Oooh!" Maeve squealed. "That one!"

Moira simply smiled and nodded.

_Yup. I'm sold._

* * *

><p>Before I knew it, the day of our wedding arrived. It wasn't nearly as stressful as I thought it would be. Honestly, the worst part about it was the fact that I didn't get to see Hank all day.<p>

We were keeping with tradition on not letting the bride and groom see each other before the wedding. And since we were getting married at night, that meant we hadn't seen each other since the evening before.

I was getting withdrawals already.

"Stop fidgeting," Gwen scolded while she did my makeup.

We were in Moira and Charles' room at the Institute getting ready for the wedding. Gwen and Maeve, already in their bridesmaid dresses, were helping with my hair and makeup while Marceline fiddled with my dress, steaming out last-minute wrinkles as it hung on the door. Olivia was happily assisting my bridesmaids by holding various brushes and pins for them from her spot on a stool right next to me as she looked on with interest. I wasn't sure where Moira was at the moment.

_Probably finishing up the last minute touches outside. Oh, I hope everything's ok!_

"Sorry," I muttered distractedly.

"Are you getting pre-wedding jitters?" Maeve asked kindly. She was putting the finishing touches on my hair- which included putting the pair of silver combs set with sapphires that Moira and Charles had gifted me with in place.

"No," I replied honestly. "I'm just excited."

What was Hank doing right now? Was _he_ feeling jittery, or was he genuinely excited about the wedding? I couldn't wait to see him-

"Hmm. Do you want me to put concealer on your freckles?" Gwen mused, breaking into the quick daydream I'd just mentally constructed of my yummy soon-to-be husband in a tuxedo.

I wrinkled my nose at her- I hated my freckles, but it was too much of a pain to cover them every day so I never bothered with it. Today, though, could be an exception. If my wedding wasn't a valid occasion, I didn't know what was.

I opened my mouth to tell Gwen to cover away when Olivia piped up.

"You shouldn't cover them," she announced. "Uncle Hank likes your freckles. They remind him of stars."

"Oh?" I raised my eyebrows at her.

Olivia nodded.

"And how do you know?"

She grinned and wiggled her fingers at me.

I couldn't help laughing. Usually I would scold her for "eavesdropping" on people's thoughts, but not today. Not my wedding day.

"Alright, touche," I told her. "Let's keep in natural, Gwenny. My fiance wants me, warts and all."

_Oh, how I love that man._

Things started to feel very _real_ when Billy knocked on the door, ready to walk me down the aisle. His eyes started to water as soon as he saw me, just as he had when I first asked him if he would give me away at the wedding.

Now Billy gasped. "Oh, Zoey-" he choked out.

"Oh no, please don't cry or you're going to make me cry!" I told him. I felt myself getting teary-eyed even as I laughed.

"Sorry," he chuckled. But then he said seriously, "you look beautiful, Zoey. Hank's a lucky man."

I grinned. "And I'm a lucky woman."

"He's a good man," Billy agreed. "I-I wouldn't let you go for just anyone."

_Oh God. Do not cry, don't cry, don't cry._

"Thanks, Billy," I managed to say.

He gave me a watery smile and offered me his arm. "Let's go get you married."

Billy led me outside, where Maeve, Gwen, and Olivia were already lined up and ready to go. When Gwen saw me she gave the signal to start the bridal march. One by one each of them made their way up the aisle.

And then it was my turn.

I squeezed Billy's arm, took a deep breath, and stepped into view of our guests.

At first I felt a little blinded by all the lights hanging down from the trees overhead, creating this beautiful canopy of glowing flowers and twinkling lights.

But then my eyes found Hank, waiting for me under the decorated gazebo, and I stopped paying attention to everything else. Guests, decorations, Billy keeping a grip on my arm to keep me from running down the aisle- I forgot about it all in my hurry to get to Hank.

The way he was looking at me... it made me feel like I was the center of his universe, his own personal miracle. Predictably, I flushed under his awestruck gaze, but I couldn't look away from him.

There was a huge, unembarrassed smile on his handsome face, like Hank was too happy in this moment to be shy. He was practically _glowing_ with joy, looking quite debonair in his tuxedo, his big blue eyes shining with emotion.

I know you're not supposed to call men "beautiful," but that was the only way I could describe Hank.

So, so beautiful.

And he was_ mine._ I felt like the luckiest woman on the planet.

"Who gives this woman in marriage?" the reverend asked when we reached the top of the aisle.

It only felt like it took us forever to get there.

"I do," Billy replied.

His cheek was wet when I leaned in to give him a kiss. He was openly crying as he took my hand and put it in Hank's.

"Hi," Hank whispered to me, after I passed my bouquet to Gwen.

"Hi."

I had to stop myself from laughing, because even though this was such a formal occasion, we were still _us. _Slightly goofy and too happy with each other to care.

To be truthful, I didn't pay attention to a word of the ceremony. I was too busy looking at Hank and thinking about how lucky I was, how honored I felt that this wonderful man had chosen me. He gave me his heart freely and without reservation, and I would spend the rest of my life keeping it safe.

Then it was time to say our vows. And Hank, always so shy around other people, spoke in a clear, strong voice as he declared himself in front of everyone we knew.

It was all I could do not to burst into tears of happiness, hearing him speak thus. He was often so unsure of himself, but obviously not in this case. Marrying me was like the one thing he was absolutely certain of.

My own voice came out a lot stronger than I thought it would, considering how hard I was choking back tears.

"I, Zoey, take you, Henry, to be my husband," I said, looking him straight in his eyes, which were burning with emotion. "All that I am and all that I have, I offer to you in love and in joy. From this day forward I will love you and comfort you, hold you close, support you in your goals, and remain faithful to you all the days of our lives."

I thought my heart was going to explode when it came time for Hank to slip on my wedding ring.

"I, Henry, give you, Zoey, this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you," he told me.

And then, after I gave Hank his ring, the reverend spoke:

"By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Hank's face was exultant as he leaned down to kiss me. It felt like every atom of my flesh was dancing with euphoria, and I could feel his joy reflected back in the way his lips moved against mine.

"I love you," my husband murmured, pressing his forehead to mine. His eyes were shining down on me, wrapping me in his warmth.

"I love you," I replied, stealing another kiss.

The reverend gave a pointed little cough, which made both of us laugh as we pulled apart just a little.

_You can bite me. He's my husband now and I can kiss him all I want to._

"I present to you Doctors Henry and Zoey McCoy," the reverend announced, to the cheers of our guests.

We'd done it.

I was officially Zoey McCoy.


	17. Finding Forgiveness

_Author's note: Thank you to NotMarge, partygirl98, anonymouscsifan, and kmj1989 for the reviews! More wedding today, including a bit of new stuff we didn't see from Hank's POV. Woot woot!_

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><p><strong>Finding Forgiveness<strong>

After taking pictures we followed a small path, lit by antique lanterns, to our reception area.

More lanterns hung on trees and set on the little tables scattered about the clearing illuminated the space, which was surrounded by flowers and topiary and reminded me of an English garden. It was absolutely gorgeous.

_Moira, you are a miracle-worker._

Hank looked around with interest and chuckled to himself as we took our seats.

"What is it?" I asked curiously.

He grinned. "I feel like we just walked onto the production set of _A Midsummer Night's Dream_," he explained, gesturing to the surroundings.

_How ironic._

That was the play I'd quoted to him that first night, when he told me about Beast. It was fitting that our wedding reception, unwittingly or no, turned out to be a reflection of that play.

I laughed as a rather mischievous thought struck me. We were in Titania's bower, and I had another line from _A Midsummer's Night Dream_ to whisper to my new husband.

_"Then I must be thy lady,"_ I said softly, nipping at his ear.

Hank's eyes immediately widened, like I'd smacked him, and then became slightly hooded in response to my tease. He looked so utterly attractive and sexy my stomach did a somersault.

I knew then that his thoughts were running in the same direction that mine were. He wanted me just as badly as I wanted him.

_Would it be terrible if we skipped our reception?_

The only thing that kept me there was the knowledge that Moira- and Marceline, to an extent- had worked very hard to make this party happen, and I would never forgive myself if I let their efforts go to waste.

And it was quite an enjoyable party, anyway. A light dinner was served, and afterwards Sean and Alex made speeches that caused both Hank _and_ myself to blush.

My favorite part was the dancing. I didn't expect Hank to continue beyond the obligatory first dance, so it was definitely a surprise when the song changed and he made no move to sit back down. I couldn't stop smiling as he twirled me around, even though I felt like I had two left feet next to his graceful agility. I knew that was courtesy of his mutation.

"My parents are here," he murmured during a slow dance.

I was so shocked I froze and pulled back from the warmth of his embrace slightly so I could see his face. "How-?"

"Charles," Hank explained dryly. "Do you want to meet them?"

For a moment I considered saying "no," just because I wasn't sure how I would react to seeing the people who had wounded my Hank so badly over the years.

But then I realized that if Hank could forgive them, I had no room to make a scene. Even if I wasn't sure if _I_ could forgive them just yet, despite Hank's mercy.

I gave him a wry smile. "Nothing says a party like estranged in-laws."

"Indeed," he agreed.

Then he led me over to the middle aged couple currently speaking to Billy and Marceline.

I eyed them curiously, looking for Hank in their features. Hank clearly got his lanky height from his father, I decided, as well as his quirky eyebrows. His eyes and angular face were his mother's, though.

I couldn't help but notice the way their faces lit up when they saw us approaching, like they were genuinely thrilled to see us.

You know. The way parents are supposed to feel when they see their child, especially on such a momentous occasion.

"Excuse me," Hank said politely. "Mother, Dad- this is my wife, Zoey."

A little thrill passed over me.

Wife. I was his wife now.

"It's nice to meet you," I offered, holding out my hand for a shake.

Mr. McCoy returned the gesture warmly, but Mrs. McCoy threw her arms around me and pulled me in for a very enthusiastic hug.

"Aren't you just _perfect_?" she gushed. "So beautiful, and Mr. Rivers here was just telling us you've a doctorate in genetics. I couldn't think of a better match for Henry!"

This was _not_ the rather cold woman Hank had described when he spoke of his mother before.

When I looked at him, my confusion evident, he seemed torn between bemusement and laughter. He gave me an unhelpful little shrug in response to my uncertainty.

Apparently this was new to him, too, then.

"Um... thank you?" I replied awkwardly.

_Quick! Someone save me, please!_

I was _very_ glad when Billy rescued me and pulled me away from Mrs. McCoy's clutches with the offer of a dance.

"They're nice enough people," he commented after a few minutes of us rotating in a circle. Billy detested dancing- Marceline complained about it regularly.

I made a noncommittal noise in reply, watching Hank's expression carefully as he danced with his mother. I wasn't sure people who shunned their only son for years could be considered "nice."

"Oh, come on, Zoey," Billy admonished. "If Hank can forgive them, you can too."

"Hank's a better person than I am," I retorted sourly, making my godfather snort with laughter.

"May I cut in?" a male voice asked behind me.

It was Mr. McCoy.

"Sure thing," Billy said cheerfully, with a little mock salute.

And then the traitor ditched me to go drink more champagne, probably overjoyed that he no longer had to dance anymore.

_You bastard._

I pasted a gracious smile on my face and let my father-in-law pull me in for a waltz.

What could I even say to him? Something casual? Something about the weather, perhaps?

Or did I want to go off on him, the way I was severely tempted to do?

_"Where were you when Hank's second mutation happened? I know he told you about it. Why didn't you come see him and tell him he was still your son, no matter what he looked like?" _Or maybe, _"your son is an amazing man, no thanks to you. But of course you wouldn't know that-"_

"Charles seems like a good man," Mr. McCoy suddenly said, breaking into my internal diatribe.

"He is," I agreed cautiously.

"He told us quite a bit about what Hank's done since he graduated college. He's accomplished a lot."

_That wouldn't have been necessary if you kept in contact with your son, _I thought bitterly.

"You have a lot to be proud of," I said aloud. "Hank's an amazing man. He's kind, compassionate, and humble despite all he's done. He's worked hard to get where he is, and I'm proud to be his wife."

Mr. McCoy gave me a rather wistful smile. "I wish I could say I had something to do with that," he remarked.

_Yeah, well, you didn't._

My thoughts must have been evident in my expression because Mr. McCoy said quietly, "my wife and I were afraid of contacting him after so much time, until Charles called us. We thought we were too late, after all those wasted years of not understanding what a gift our son was. Neither of us thought we could ever earn his forgiveness."

That made sense, in a way. After a certain point both parties felt like there was too much water under the bridge to make the first move. Would any overtures be too little, too late? I guess I could understand their hesitation to approach Hank after all that time. I wondered what I would do, in that situation?

_Probably not make my kid feel inadequate for the way they were born in the first place, _I thought facetiously.

"But Hank gave it to you anyway," I finished for Mr. McCoy.

He nodded, his lip trembling slightly and his eyes suddenly overbright. "I feel very lucky. He gave us much more than we deserved."

_Tears? No, not tears! No wonder men think it's cheating when women cry._

I was reluctant to admit it, but Mr. McCoy's genuine contrition was melting my anger towards him. It just reminded me all over again that I was too soft to hold a grudge, especially against someone who'd already apologized.

And it didn't help that Mr. McCoy's smile reminded me of Hank's, either.

_Damn. I wonder if life would be easier if I could be petty?_

"Looks like it's a day for new beginnings all around, isn't it?" I said with a heartfelt grin.

"Yes," Mr. McCoy agreed, his expression immediately lightening as he saw the change in mine. "It is."

* * *

><p>Soon after that it was time for the bouquet toss.<p>

All of my single acquaintances eagerly gathered in the middle of the dance floor. I watched with amazement as a couple of them shoved each other rudely out of the way before I even got in place.

_Good grief, ladies. Better throw it before there's bloodshed._

So I did, and then watched in bemusement as a scuffle broke out among the competitors.

Maeve came up victorious- I didn't want to imagine the underhanded moves she had to make in order to do so- and cast a meaningful look at Sean. He turned a little green in reply as Alex punched him in the shoulder.

_Oh yeah. There's a cupcake dress in your future._

And then came the garter toss.

My face felt bright red as they brought out a chair for me to sit on and Hank knelt in front of me to remove my garter.

Somehow my suddenly overheated skin got goosebumps as he sensually traced his hands up my leg, under my dress to my thigh. I stopped breathing as his eyes burned into mine, our gazes locked as he touched me.

_Are we even going to make it to Paris first?_

By the time Hank stood up I was practically undressing him with my eyes.

I was so distracted that it took me a moment to realize that he'd sling-shotted my garter right into Sean's face.

It was priceless.


	18. Love Me Tender

_Author's note: Thank you to NotMarge, partygirl98, and anonymouscsifan for the reviews! It's honeymoon time! Couldn't help going for the Elvis song reference in the title, haha. ;-)_

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><p><strong>Love Me Tender<strong>

Another priceless moment came when I nibbled on Hank's finger as he fed me a piece of our wedding cake (a cream-filled spongecake in honor of my Twinkie-fiend of a husband). His expression gave me the shivers- in a good way, obviously.

I was doing my damnedest to be flirty and seductive today, and I was pretty sure it was working, if the look in his eyes was anything to go by.

That was one of the many wonderful things about Hank- he always made me feel beautiful, desired, wanted. Especially now that he no longer hit the brakes when he came close to losing control of his feral half anymore. He just let it happen, and every time he shifted into his Beast form I could practically _feel_ the gratitude in his kisses when I didn't pull away from him.

To me not being afraid of him was a matter of course. Hank was the man I loved, and he would be attractive to me no matter what his form. And I don't think he understood how flattering it was to have the power to make such a calm, diffident man lose his self-control over me. But it was the truth.

I took it as a compliment, every time. And a confirmation that he wanted me just as much as I wanted him.

After cake Marceline and Gwen led me back inside the Institute to help me out of my wedding dress and into my going-away outfit.

"Are you nervous?" Gwen asked with a cheeky grin. She knew I'd "saved myself" for my wedding night and couldn't resist teasing me a little now that it was finally here.

"No," I replied calmly, all too aware of our audience.

_Sorry, I don't want to talk about sex in front of my godmother. It's awkward._

To be truthful, I _was_ a little nervous. Not because I believed Hank would hurt me or anything, but because I wanted our first time to be _perfect_ and I was worried about how it would go. The last thing I needed was Marceline freaking me out even more by saying "you're going to be a woman now, _ma petite_!"

Or worse, giving me tips I did _not _want to hear. Especially from the woman who was as close to a mother to me as I was ever going to get.

_Thanks, but no thanks._

* * *

><p>Hank had already loaded the T1 and was waiting for me with Alex and Sean by the time I arrived downstairs. So after we said our thank you's and good-byes Hank helped me into the car, and off we went to JFK airport.<p>

We were going to be staying at La Tremoille, a hotel located in the Golden Triangle of Paris- close to all manner of museums and historical landmarks. I'd never been out of the country before, let alone to the country of my mother's birth, so this was going to be an exciting trip for more than one reason. Hank had even agreed to come with me to visit the little village my parents met at.

"Hi," I said brightly to Hank after he got into the driver's seat.

He grinned as he started the car. "Hi," he replied. "Ready?"

I nodded and leaned in to give him a kiss. "Off we go, into the sunset," I told him.

_To our very own happily ever after._

* * *

><p>The flight from JFK took seven long hours, but that didn't bother me much because we were in first class. The seats were comfortable enough that I slept through most of the plane ride.<p>

Thankfully Hank didn't seem to mind my snoring. But if he did he'd certainly have to get used to it now.

We landed at Orly Airport at five pm local time, and I got more and more antsy the closer we got to the hotel.

_Oh Lord, I have the worst morning breath right now. And my legs- they're fuzzy all over again! Is my hair all squished in the back? I bet it is! No!_

I could tell Hank was nervous, too, and I was pretty sure I knew why. Part of it was for the same reason I was- this would be the first time for both of us.

But I had a feeling Hank was worried about how I would react to Beast, that maybe making love would be a step too far for me no matter how many times I'd assured him of the contrary. Hopefully tonight would finally put an end to all of the insecurities that had plagued Hank for so long, and he would finally see that he truly _was_ a person worthy of love.

The fact that everyone seemed to know we were newlyweds didn't help my growing apprehension. I felt like there was a spotlight glaring down on us both, the way the cab driver and the desk clerk smirked at us.

When we got to our room door Hank scooped me up and carried me, bridal-style, over the threshold. I couldn't help giggling over that, the jitters melting away for just a moment.

_And he really doesn't think he's my Prince Charming? Ha._

But unfortunately my nerves came rushing back as he set me down and tipped the bellhop who brought up our luggage. The man gave us a rather knowing look on his way out the door, and left us alone.

Alone.

I'd been with Hank alone plenty of times before, but this time it was different. He was my _husband_ now. And I was his wife.

For a moment we just stared at each other-

And then I completely panicked, thinking about my nasty breath and my messed up hair and my furry legs, and this was _Hank, _my husband, and I wanted everything to be perfect-

So I did the only thing I could in this situation: I grabbed my toiletry bag and made a mad dash for the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind me much louder than I intended.

_Oops._

Once inside I was in a tizzy to prepare. I shaved my legs and under my arms again, washed my face, fixed my hair, put on perfume- and then stood there staring at my too-pale reflection, wearing only the skimpy lingerie set Gwen helped me pick out.

"Hank's going to have a stroke!" she'd said cheerfully. And then she threatened to purchase it for me herself if I didn't shut up with the protests and buy them already. "It's actually to help _you_, Zo. Wearing pretty panties is an instant confidence boost."

_Maybe she was right, in a way._

I _did_ feel a bit more confident, taking in how the lingerie looked on me...

Until I took into account all of the pasty-white, freckly flesh I was showing at the moment.

_Yeah, that's not going to work._

I immediately opted for a robe- another pick of Gwen's, that showed way too much leg- rather than strutting out into the bedroom wearing nothing but my unmentionables.

_You can do this,_ I told myself. _It's Hank. You trust him completely. You love him, and he loves you._

For a moment I was practically overwhelmed by the truth of that statement. We loved each other. Hank had committed his life to me, completely trusted me with his heart. With each other we could be completely vulnerable, and give one another everything we had.

I couldn't imagine doing this with anyone but him.

And with that, I turned around and opened the door a crack. I peeked my head out and quickly felt my face start to burn when I saw Hank sitting on the bed, fully clothed, waiting for me.

_He looks even more nervous than I do._

Somehow that galvanized me into action. I took a deep breath and deliberately stepped out of the bathroom, letting him see what I was wearing.

Hank's mouth dropped open in shock, and he immediately sat up straighter. "H-hi," he stuttered.

"Hi," I replied, looking down shyly.

I felt his gaze follow me as I stepped closer, moving until I was right in front of him. Then I shrugged out of the robe before I could talk myself out of it and waited for Hank's reaction.

And then waited some more.

He seemed frozen in place, though his eyes were roving all over me so fast I thought he might get dizzy. His lack of reaction made me start to panic again- did he not like what he was seeing? Was seeing me practically naked a disappointment? Or did Gwen's plan to give Hank a stroke with this lingerie set work _too_ well?

"What do you think?" I blurted out anxiously.

"Y-you are _so_ beautiful," he croaked, his gaze meeting mine. There was no sign of a lie in his eyes.

_Oh thank goodness._

I couldn't repress a relieved smile at the compliment. Nor could I stop the blood from rushing to my face once more.

"So are you," I murmured truthfully.

My hands trembled as I reached out and took Hank's glasses off, setting them down on a bedside table. Then I started undoing the buttons of his shirt with shaking fingers.

I wasn't nervous anymore, despite the tremors. Hearing Hank's words, seeing the genuine awe in his gaze, made me feel more confident than I'd been in my entire life. I was now shaking from anticipation.

Hank suddenly slipped a hand around my waist, pulling me closer. His other hand tangled itself in my hair as he pulled me down for a feverish kiss.

_Finally,_ I thought in relief.

I tugged his shirt off and straddled his lap, savoring the feeling of his skin on mine. I couldn't get enough of it. His hands were everywhere- trailing down my back, across my thighs (_I'm so glad I shaved again!_), holding me flush against him, like he never wanted to let me go.

Hank picked me up and gently laid me on the bed. Then he almost tripped and fell on his face while taking off his shoes and pants.

It was the first time I'd ever really seen him do anything even _remotely_ clumsy. For some reason it was incredibly endearing. That, and the fact that his shirt was off now, made it easy for me to stifle my laughter and hold my arms out for him in invitation.

Shirtless Hank was certainly a thing of beauty.

I pressed myself against him tightly, burying my nails in his hair as we kissed and touched each other everywhere in reach. His heart was pounding in his chest, an echo of mine, and a perfect match to our ragged breathing. The passion between us was reaching a fever pitch. It felt like every cell in my body was screaming for him.

"I want you, so much," I murmured breathlessly, nibbling on his ear the way I knew he liked. "I love you."

Hank shivered, and suddenly I could feel the delicious tickle of his fur against my skin. It seemed like my words were what pushed him over the edge of self-control and caused him to shift into Beast.

But rather than diving in to kiss me again, Hank recoiled slightly.

I opened my eyes, ready to chastise him for leaving me hanging- weren't we past that nonsense by now?- but then I caught sight of his pleading expression.

"Please don't break my heart," his eyes seemed to say. Like he was afraid that at any moment I would pull away, screaming my revulsion towards him.

He looked so vulnerable I couldn't bring myself to scold him. This was the moment to finally show Hank that I truly did accept him for all he was.

I smiled and pulled him in for a kiss. "Hank," I whispered. "Please, make love to me?"

And he did.

It was everything that I'd hoped for, and more.


	19. Discovery

_Author's note: Thank you to partygirl98, kmj1989, anonymouscsifan, and NotMarge for the reviews! Partygirl, I never get tired of that, so don't worry. I kinda do the same thing while I'm writing haha._

_Big time jump today. These next chapters (after this one, obviously) will be Zoey's account of her kidnapping. It'll be intense! Hopefully._

* * *

><p><strong>Discovery<strong>

After much consideration, I decided to confirm Marceline's suspicions and tell her that I was pregnant as I started my seventh week. Hank secretly worried still, I knew, because the seventh week was fraught for miscarriages, but I was bursting to share our happy news and didn't want to wait anymore.

Hank had been taking such good care of me, which was nice because so far I'd been plagued by morning sickness. He made me tea, held my hair while I was sick, and even painted my toenails for me.

I couldn't ask for a more devoted husband. I just _knew_ Hank was going to be a wonderful father.

Just like Marceline was going to be a fantastic grandmother.

"Marcy, could you get Billy?" I asked as we entered the coffee shop one Thursday evening, not long before closing time. "We have some news."

Marceline's expression lit up. "Bill, get out here! _Maintenant__!_" she called to the back room.

Billy came rushing out in a hurry, looking concerned. But then he saw it was just Hank and I and immediately relaxed.

"You're doing bad things to my heart, Marceline," he said with a heavy sigh.

"Sorry, _cher_," Marceline replied absently, sounding completely unapologetic. She turned to us eagerly. "Now, what's the news?"

I slipped my arms around Hank, giving him an encouraging squeeze because I knew he was nervous. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and took a deep breath.

"W-we're having a baby," he announced shakily.

Marceline shrieked in delight, clapped her hands, and practically climbed the counter in her hurry to give us both hugs and kisses. Her enthusiasm made both Hank and I blush.

"Oh, congratulations! How far along are you? Oh, if only your mother was here! Are you over the morning sickness? Any cravings yet? Is Hank taking care of you? Hank, are you taking care of her?" Marceline demanded, rapid-fire, without waiting for answers.

_Breathe, Marceline, Take a breath._

Billy, meanwhile, looked like he was about to cry.

He'd always viewed me as the daughter he never had. And now I was having a baby of my own. I think it was one of those heart-wrenching reminders that I wasn't a little girl anymore, no matter how much he wished I could be.

There would be a new little boy or girl to dote over now.

"Billy?" I asked tentatively. "You're going to be a grandpa."

And then my godfather began to tear up. I suppose me telling him that I considered him to be a grandfather to my child, even though we weren't related by blood, meant a lot to him. I wasn't patronizing him though- I really did see him that way.

Billy came over and hugged both of us.

"Congratulations, both of you," he said, clapping Hank on the back with a loud smack.

"Thanks, sir," Hank replied, with a sigh of relief.

Billy wouldn't stop laughing about for the rest of our visit.

* * *

><p>"I think that went well, don't you?" I asked as we walked home, arm-in-arm, later that evening.<p>

"Billy didn't kill me, so yes, I think so," Hank agreed.

I snorted. He'd been worried that Billy would kill him for daring to have sex with me and getting me pregnant, for all that we'd been married for four years now.

_Silly Hank. You worry too much._

"Hey. That wasn't a joke," he retorted. But then he smiled.

I laughed outright this time.

But then I shivered and snuggled against his arm- it was a chilly evening for April. Now that darkness had fallen it was cold enough for our breath to be visible in the air.

Hank pulled his arm out of my grip and put it around my shoulders instead, rubbing to warm me up. Thankfully we were almost home, taking the short alley that would put us just one street over from our apartment.

"I think I want a sandwich when we get home," I announced after a moment. "I'm craving a Nutella and M&M cookie sandwich. On white bread."

_Right now that sounds like a sweet, squishy crunchy piece of heaven._

"Sounds... interesting," Hank replied hesitantly. "You're not feeling sick any-?"

He stopped talking suddenly.

Confused, I glanced up at his face. Hank was focused on the end of the alleyway ahead of us, his expression tense and worried.

I followed his gaze-

_Oh, shit._

Three men slid out of the shadows from the street, stepping into the alley and blocking our way. Each of them had knives in their hands. Hank had sensed them before they even came into view.

He stopped walking and pulled me in closer against his side. His grip on my arm became almost painful when he glanced behind us- where there were two more knife-wielding goons.

We were trapped.

"H-hank-"

I hated myself for the weakness in my voice, but I was terrified.

I knew Hank. I knew he wouldn't let any of those men hurt me or the baby- but to what cost? Could he take on five armed men while trying to protect me at the same time?

"Can I help you gentlemen?" Hank asked politely.

He angled his body so he could keep all five of them in his line of sight, pulling me behind him with our backs to the wall. Trying to protect me.

"We can start with your wallets," one of them sneered, stepping closer. I couldn't see his face thanks to the nylon all of them were wearing on their heads.

I couldn't believe this was happening. Salem Center was such a small town, you _never_ heard about such things here.

"Have them," Hank said coolly. He took out his wallet and tossed it at the boy's feet. "Sweetheart?"

I did as he asked, chucking my wallet down angrily as I cursed our horrible luck. The only reason I didn't throw it at the man's face was because I knew Hank was trying to get us out of here using diplomacy, rather than force.

"If that's all, we'd like to be going now," he calmly stated. "We don't want any trouble."

Hank took a tentative step forward, to test if they would move.

But no- the man who'd demanded our wallets brought his knife up higher, and the others followed suit.

"We're not done here," he retorted, laughing stupidly. "My friends and I want a taste of that little redheaded piece of ass. You can have what's left of her after we're done."

"You can go to hell and stay there," I hissed, without thinking.

Our assailants chuckled.

"Oooh, a feisty one!"

Two men took a step forward-

And then Hank _snarled._ In the blink of an eye he shifted into Beast.

_Now they've done it. You don't threaten a feral's pregnant mate without getting your head ripped off._

The goons jumped back in horror, seeing the blue-haired, fanged creature in front of them. If the situation weren't so dire I might've laughed- they were terrified, but my first thought upon seeing Hank go into "Beast mode" was _my hero__!_

"What the hell is _that_?" one of the men squeaked.

"Just kill him!" the first man snapped.

_No!_

One of them came at Hank with his knife at the ready. Hank blocked the man's arm before he could make a downward stabbing motion, and then in the same movement delivered a solid hit to the man's chest. He fell to the ground and moved no more.

And then all of our assailants attacked Hank at once. Except for one.

The boy who'd done most of the talking so far came at me, distracting me from Hank's plight.

My hand shot out and sent a fireball right at his chest before I could even consider my options. The only thing I could think of was keeping that man away from me, and more importantly, my baby.

The man's shirt caught on fire. He screamed and immediately fell to the ground, trying to put out the flames.

_Take this, you bastard._

I stepped closer and kicked him right in the crotch.

And then, before I'd even placed my foot back on the ground, clawed hands snatched me up and tucked me against a muscular chest.

Hank was holding me so tightly that I couldn't even look up at his face as he carried me, running faster by far than I'd ever seen him go.

_At least if anyone sees us they'll just think their eyes were playing tricks on them._

The fact that Hank seemed to be moving just fine was slightly soothing, but didn't completely assuage my worry over him. He'd just taken on three people at once. Had he made it through unscathed? Or had he been injured in the scuffle?

_Please don't be hurt, please don't let him be hurt-_

Hank didn't stop running until we were in our apartment. Once there he set me down on the couch, _finally_ giving me a chance to see his face.

I brushed my fingers along his cheeks, checking for wounds as his own hands cradled my face. His eyes were a little wild as they searched mine, but otherwise he seemed fine.

"Are you ok?" We both asked at the exact same time.

At any other time we might have laughed. But for now we just gave each other sad little half-smiles.

"Hank, I'm fine," I assured him. One of my hands went to my stomach. "Both of us. I promise."

He let out a sigh of relief and sank down to the floor, resting his head in my lap. I stroked his hair while he took deep, calming breaths. From the look of it his attempts to compose himself were failing, if the convulsive clenching of his fists were any indication.

Was he beating himself up about what happened?

I couldn't see why he had justification for that, to be honest. I felt rather certain that we wouldn't have made it out of that alley unscathed, had it not been for Hank's feral abilities. What he was had saved both me _and_ the baby. He was our hero.

But... both Hank and I had let hostile humans see us using our powers. I had a bad feeling that no good could come of that.

"You let them see you," I murmured. "And I used my powers, too."

I don't think we need to worry about those hoodlums going to the authorities," Hank mused. "Not unless they want to explain why they were attacking random passerby in the first place."

It wasn't the police I was afraid of, though. It was the Friends of Humanity, that organization dedicated to the eradication of the mutant race. If they caught wind of us they'd be happy to kill us for the crime of simply existing.

Could they find us, though? I couldn't see how. Especially if we were careful.

"No more walking to the cafe, ok?" Hank said quietly, clearly thinking along the same lines. "We'll drive from now on."

"Ok," I agreed.

He lifted his head off of my lap so I could see his eyes. "I won't let anything happen to you," he promised earnestly.

_As if that were in doubt._

I had complete faith that Hank would always do whatever he could to keep me and the baby safe. It was part of his very nature.

And besides...

I smiled and raised one of his hands to my lips to kiss the palm. "I know. You're my 'knight in shining armor' and 'Prince Charming' all in one."

Hank gave me a tiny smile.

Then he pulled me in for a kiss, his claws and huge hands as tender as always on my skin. His lips drifted down to press against my stomach, where our baby was growing.

Hank was capable of so much strength and fierceness when provoked. To the outside observer, he might be considered a little terrifying. But that's only because they couldn't see the gentle soul within.

To me he was the epitome of what a man should be.

_My Prince Charming._


	20. Kidnapped

_Author's note: Thank you to NotMarge, partygirl98, kmj1989, and anonymouscsifan for the reviews! The next several chapters are going to cover Zoey's kidnapping. So we're going to see what happened to her in a lot more detail than what we saw from Hank's POV. Hope you guys like it!_

* * *

><p><strong>Kidnapped<strong>

_Hmm... I'm hungry_, I thought to myself as I went up the stairs to our apartment.

It was a Friday, and in a few hours Hank and I were going to be going to dinner with our friends. I was excited, because we were going to tell everyone I was pregnant. I could only imagine how they were going to react to the news.

There would probably be lots of innuendo involved on Sean and Alex's part- Hank was sure to spend the evening blushing furiously.

The thought brought a smile to my face.

But even though dinner was in a few hours, I needed food _now._

Hank kept badgering me about eating whenever I was hungry because of the baby, and I always did what I could not to upset him. Seeing his tortured expression while I was suffering from morning sickness had been more unsettling than the actual vomiting. I knew he perversely blamed himself for my illness, somehow.

So I had a valid excuse for making myself a snack right now.

I was humming to myself as I pulled the ingredients and tools for a grilled cheese sandwich out. Charlie, Lucie, and Sydney immediately started rubbing against my ankles, the greedy little beggars that they were.

"Oh, fine," I sighed, kneeling down.

I had a dab of butter on three of my fingers, which the cats started to lick up with relish.

"Don't tell your dad, ok? This is our little secret," I told them sternly.

Their only reply was to purr. Loudly.

A knock sounded at the door.

_Who could that be?_ I wondered warily, approaching the door with new found caution.

Hank had been paranoid ever since that attempted mugging a couple weeks ago. I had a feeling his hyper-vigilance was starting to wear off on me, no matter how much I told him he needed to relax.

"Who is it?" I called through the door.

"It's Nick," my brother-in-law's voice replied. He sounded... edgy. "I need to talk to you about Chloe."

_Chloe?_

A hundred different scenarios immediately rushed through my head at the speed of light, each one more horrible than the next. Even if we rarely got along, I never wished ill on my older sister. What was wrong?

Nick looked worried when I opened the door, seemingly confirming my fears over something being wrong with Chloe.

But then, as the door swung open, his expression shifted to one of savage triumph and delight. Something about the look in his eyes gave me the creeps. Almost like he was _inhuman._

"What-?"

And then all hell broke loose.

Five men rushed the doorway, coming from out of sight.

The smart thing to have done in this situation would probably be to scream for help to alert the neighbors.

But that's not what I did. I just couldn't get enough breath in my lungs to scream.

Instead I panicked and tried to shut the door on their faces, which of course didn't work. I just barely kept my feet as one of the men threw his shoulder into the door, almost knocking it off its hinges and sending me reeling.

Since I already had momentum carrying me in that direction I made a run for the dining room, trying to reach the phone on the bar to call the police.

Someone grabbed me by the arm with a grip like iron. I whipped around and sent a fireball right at the man's chest, causing his shirt to catch on fire.

He yelped and released me, but I was so off balance that I stumbled into the kitchen, sending another fireball blindly over my shoulder as I went. It sounded like I hit someone else.

But now they had me cornered. Trapped.

I grabbed the skillet I'd gotten out for my grilled cheese sandwich and lashed out with it as I turned to face my attackers. I hit my mark, landing a solid blow on one man's head as he was about to grab me. A sickening crunch rent the air- I must've cracked his skull.

And I dented my frying pan.

_Damn._

I threw it at another guy, hitting him in the face. Then I followed through with a fireball for good measure, making him squeal in pain as his nose started spouting blood and his shirt began to smolder.

Nick and another man tried to tackle me while I was distracted, but I dodged at the last second. It caused them to fall to the floor with a loud crash.

Wildly grasping for a weapon, I grabbed my butter knife off the counter and stabbed my brother-in-law in the hand- so hard that it actually sank over an inch into his skin.

He howled in pain. "You bitch!"

_Please let someone have heard that. Call the cops, please-_

_If I could just get out of here to where someone could see me-_

I ran for the front door, practically flying over the mess of prone bodies on my kitchen floor. I was almost free-

And then someone's arm flew out and caught me by the shins. It knocked my legs completely out from under me and made me fall to the floor, leaving me with just enough presence of mind to land on my side, rather than my stomach.

Trying to protect my baby.

_The baby- Hank, I'm so sorry-_

That was the last thought to pass through my mind before someone pressed a sweet-smelling rag to my mouth and nose. Then all I knew was darkness.

* * *

><p>I woke up to the sound of two men speaking in harsh tones several feet away from me, with no idea where I was or how long it had been since I was last conscious. I quickly took stock of my situation.<p>

I could sense that I was laying on a cold tile floor, even though I purposely kept my eyes closed. I was a little sore, but nothing too awful.

And my hands and feet were both duct taped together.

_Damn._

"Grey wasn't too thrilled when we wouldn't let him come along, was he?" one of the men sneered contemptuously.

"Yeah, well the boss doesn't want to risk him having a change of heart," the other mused. "She _is_ his wife's sister, after all."

"I guess."

There was silence for a moment, but then the first man spoke again. His voice was sly, cajoling like poisoned honey. It made the hairs on my arms stand on end.

"You know, I don't see why we should wait for the monster to come up with the cure," he said suggestively. "Ain't we just going to kill her and that freak anyway, once he coughs it up?"

_A cure?_ I thought groggily. _A cure..._

"You heard the boss," the other man argued. "She's leverage. We can't kill her."

"That little bitch put Simon and Paul in the hospital! Can't we at least smack her around a bit? She ain't nothing but a mutant, anyway."

He spat on the floor.

The other man was silent, like he was seriously considering the notion.

_This is not good._

My mind whirled away, chewing over the feeble information I had obtained over my situation.

These men- Friends of Humanity members, most likely, or some other mutant-hating group to be sure- had kidnapped me to use as leverage against Hank. They wanted him to create a cure of some kind...

A cure for the X-gene?

_That's impossible_, I scoffed. _It's not a "disease." It's just a heritable trait, like red hair or blue eyes... Though I'm sure a bunch of ignorant rednecks won't actually believe that._

What a perfect situation for them. If Hank somehow managed to whip up some sort of X-gene suppressor in the time they gave him, he would be handing over a weapon to wipe out our entire race.

And if he didn't, they'd kill me. And our baby.

_Two less mutants disgracing the planet with their existence,_ I thought. I was suddenly wracked by a pang of despair.

For all I knew, they might just kill us all anyway, even if Hank somehow made a "cure." They'd just wait until after he gave it to them to murder me right in front of his horrified eyes. And then try to kill him too...

I ground my teeth together in fear and frustration, trying to hold back a scream. How had they even found us? Unless-

Nicholas Grey.

What if those muggers had gone to an FOH meeting after our run-in with them, and Nick was there? He'd be able to identify us from our descriptions with ease. And then the FOH might've researched Hank's work and deduced that he was a brilliant geneticist. If anyone could create a "cure," it'd be him.

_Hank can't do that. He can't betray mutant kind like that._

But I also knew with a certainty that Hank would do everything in his power to save me and the baby. I could only pray that he wouldn't succumb to their evil demands. He was a genius- surely he'd think of some kind of plan to get me out of here... wherever I happened to be right now...

Betrayal and useless rage swept over me. Nick had screwed us over, big time. My own sister's husband, that bastard. He'd even _helped_ the FOH kidnap me.

Suddenly I felt sorry that I'd stabbed him in the hand. I wished I had gotten somewhere more vital.

What could I do now, though? I was trapped, had no idea where I was, and it sounded like those monsters were looking for a little payback after my less-than-quiet capture.

_What about our baby?_

I wanted to scream at them- not that it would matter. They would probably _enjoy_ taking yet another mutant life. The thought made my blood turn to ice.

_I can't let them touch me. Protect the baby above all else-_

There were footsteps approaching me, like someone was coming over to beat the holy hell out of me.

My eyes sprang open, quickly taking in my surroundings. The walls were made of drywall. Nice and flammable.

_Perfect._

And then I set the whole room on fire.


	21. Do What You Have to Do

_Author's note: Thank you to partygirl98 and anonymouscsifan for the reviews! Anonymous, I purposely made Zoey not do that much damage to Nick because she's just not a fighter- especially not with her powers. She's really reluctant to hurt people, and even when she's provoked she feels bad about it. An X-Man, she is not. Good thing she's married to one, though!_

* * *

><p><strong>Do What You Have to Do<strong>

The two FOH goons screamed when the walls spontaneously combusted, turning the room into an inferno. Both of them scrambled out the door, leaving me behind.

_Yes!_

I flopped around on the floor (thankfully no one was there to see the indignity of it all) until I was in a sitting position. For a few seconds I just watched the crackling flames, hoping they would protect me from the FOH.

_Thank the lord for being fireproof. And smoke proof, too._

If I got lucky, maybe I could just stay in here until Hank came to rescue me, as I had to believe he would- my knight in shining armor could do nothing less. He wouldn't let me down.

Or maybe I would even burn a hole in the wall to the outside. If I got enough of a head start I might be able to hide outside- wherever we were- or even make it to a road and hitch a ride home!

For a second I cheerfully contemplated that.

And then my plan imploded.

One of the men burst in, holding a gun aimed right at my head.

I froze- I didn't know if this was the guy who was willing to follow orders on not killing me (yet) or the one who was on the fence about it. I just knew that he had an expression of pure evil on his face.

"Stop the fire," he snapped, coughing slightly. _"Now."_

I just stared at him.

_Nope. If I keep you in here long enough you'll pass out and then I'll have a gun._

Not that I knew how to shoot a gun, but at least it was something.

"Do it!"

A shot rang out.

I squeezed my eyes shut out of reflex and felt something hot rip through one of my sandals. When I peeked I saw that there was a hole in my shoe.

My heart belatedly started to do double time, a delayed reaction to the shot as adrenalin flooded through my system. It was all I could do not to scream in terror.

That was just too close for my comfort. I made the fire stop.

The man's breathing was labored as he shoved his gun in his pocket- I wasn't an expert, but that didn't seem very safe- and then roughly dragged me to my feet by the duct tape binding my wrists.

He slung me over his shoulder in a firemen's lift, his hands sliding along and gripping my thighs. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to think of his nauseating touch.

"Where are we going?" I asked quietly.

"Shut up," he snapped, shaking me. Politeness was clearly not his forte.

I lost track of how many turns we took. But I got the sense that we were heading further into the building, rather than out of it. Finally he stopped in front of a large steel door, where two other FOH members were waiting.

One of them I fleetingly recognized as one of my kidnappers, but the other was a stranger. He gave off an aura of authority that made me wary.

The sight of the door filled me with a sense of deep dread. The feeling only got worse when one of the other guys opened it, revealing just how thick it was. I was carried inside.

_It's a freezer, _I realized, with a growing feeling of horror. _Why'd they put me in a freezer?_

I had a feeling it was because the walls were thick metal- not exactly flammable.

The man carrying me flung me down into a plastic chair in the middle of the freezer. I let out an audible sigh of relief- I didn't want him touching me anymore, the creep.

"Why the hell didn't you take her here first, you idiots?" the authoritative man demanded loudly. He and the other guy had followed us in. "You saw what she could do, and then you put her in a room _made of_ shit she could set on fire! Use your fucking brains!"

"Sorry, boss," the guy who carried me mumbled petulantly.

I snorted.

All three of them rounded on me with murderous expressions on their faces.

"Maybe you should get better cronies," I suggested coolly.

_They did almost get beat by a girl, after all._

"You keep your mouth shut, mutant," the "boss" hissed. "Or we won't keep you alive after your freak show husband calls. After that, consider yourself disposable."

I kept my expression impassive, even as my mind started going a million miles a minute. I barely noticed the man exit the freezer, leaving me with my two guards, because I was too busy trying to put myself in Hank's shoes. That was the only way to keep myself from panicking about my apparently imminent death.

What would Hank do when he found out I'd been kidnapped?

His first reaction would be to panic. Then he'd pull himself together and call these jerks to find out what they wanted. The FOH was clearly keeping me alive until then just in case he wanted to speak to me, for proof that I was alive. After that, there was no guarantee that they wouldn't double-cross him.

Hank wouldn't really consider betraying our kind to get me back- at least, I had to hope so... No, as soon as he found out the FOH had me, he'd go straight to Charles and the other X-Men.

_Yes._

I knew, to my very soul, that that would be Hank's next move. He would have Charles find me using Cerebro, and then they would mount a rescue mission. They would come save me...

But I foresaw a problem with that.

I stared at the walls. The thick, steel walls.

Would Charles be able to see me through them? I highly doubted it, considering what Hank had told me of that day in Cuba so many years ago. There were some things that Professor X just couldn't see through. Which meant if the X-Men were going to find me, I'd have to help them along.

If I could just clear out these guards, I might be able to melt a hole in the wall big enough for Charles to "see" me through. It would probably take a lot of time and effort, but I was positive I could do it. The alternative didn't bear thinking of.

I desperately needed to speak to Hank first, though. To delay him from going to Charles, so I had enough time to make myself visible.

_Grey. I'll have him go after Grey._

That would give me some time, and it would hopefully give Hank a better picture of what he was dealing with.

_And if he rips out Nick's throat I won't be too fussed._

But I had to be careful, to make sure the FOH didn't find out Hank was going after Nick... How would I do that?

I'd just settled on a plan when the boss guy walked in again, carrying a telephone.

Without further ado, he shoved it so roughly into my hands that I almost dropped it.

I awkwardly brought the telephone up to my ear, minding my duct-taped wrists. "Hank?"

_"Zoey? Are you ok?"_ Hank sounded frantic.

My poor darling, and I had no time to comfort him.

I spoke quickly in French, almost tripping over my words in my haste. _"You can't do what they want you to, Hank. The Friends of Humanity will use it as a weapon against mutants, they'll use it to take everyone's powers-"_

One of the guards slapped me, _hard_, across the back of my head.

I couldn't stop myself from gasping in hurt and surprise. I hadn't expect them to do that while Hank was on the phone- but then, maybe they wanted him to know just how brutal they would be if he didn't comply with their demands. The evil bastards.

_"Zoey!"_ Hank's voice cried out. The sound just about killed me.

"That's enough, if you ain't gonna speak English," the slap-happy guard snapped.

The boss snatched the phone away from me and started to head for the door.

It was my last chance.

_"Parle à Gris! Gris! Gris!" _I shouted at the top of my lungs, hoping Hank would hear me and make the connection.

A guard grabbed me around the shoulders, while the other tried to clamp his hand over my mouth. I wriggled away, kicking my bound feet wildly.

"Don't touch me!" I snarled.

The door slammed shut, leaving me alone with two men who had nothing but evil intentions.

_"After that, consider yourself disposable."_

The thought goaded me into action- my last stand, my only hope of living through this was to get them out of this room.

I set their shoes on fire with my powers.

"Aaagh! You bitch!" they howled, hopping around in agony. "Stop it!"

One tried to reach down to take his flaming footwear off, but that only served to give his hands horrific-looking burns. He screamed even louder.

The savage pleasure I took in their cries scared me a little. I never thought I would enjoy causing another person pain-

But I shoved that thought from my mind and focused on burning the duct tape off my wrists and ankles while they were distracted.

Finally free, I was able to slide off my chair when one of the goons took a swing at me. Then I started throwing fireballs right and left.

Between the projectiles and the burning shoes my assailants quickly gave up. They ran out of the room, still yelping with every step, and slammed the door behind them.

Leaving me alone, just like I planned.

I collapsed on the floor in an ungainly heap- my knees had apparently decided to not support me anymore for the moment.

_What did I just do?_

My hands were shaking like mad. The smell of burning flesh and rubber hung in the air like a choking miasma of guilt and I just wanted to break down and _cry._

Even if those men were going to hurt me- maybe even kill me- I _hated_ using my powers like that. To maim and injure. It made me sick, like I was no worse than the monster they saw me as.

_You did what you had to do_, a voice from deep inside my consciousness said firmly.

Weirdly enough, it reminded me of my father's voice. Pragmatic and yet still sympathetic, tough but gentle.

_Keep yourself alive, so you can keep the baby safe. For Hank, remember?_

That brought me back into focus.

I was alone, and free to burn a hole in the walls of my prison. With any luck, Hank would decipher my clue and go after Nick, giving me enough time to make myself visible to Cerebro.

_I hope he lied to that guy on the phone._

My husband, always so sweet and honest, was a horrible liar- especially when he was flustered or upset. I'd purposely told him not to create the "cure" so he would have something truthful to say when the boss guy inevitably demanded to know what I'd said. That way the real clue, to go talk to Nicholas Grey, was safe.

_Oh, I should've told him that I loved him just one more time, just in case-_

I stopped the thought in its tracks. Pessimism would get me nowhere. I had to put my faith in Hank, and he hadn't let me down yet.

And with that, I squared my shoulders and got to work.


	22. Saved

_Author's note: Thank you to NotMarge, partygirl98, kmj1989, and anonymouscsifan for the reviews!_

* * *

><p><strong>Saved<strong>

It took me a while to notice how cold it was getting in the freezer.

Every fiber of my being was focused on melting a hole in the steel wall. I was starting to sweat from the exertion and a steady throbbing was starting up in my temples, but I refused to stop. My baby's survival depended on this.

The flames I was sending into the wall were blue, and I was actually a little proud of myself for that. I'd never produced fire that hot before, so that was something.

But unfortunately the extra heat came with a price. It was wearing me out much faster than usual. And not only that, but I'd already used my powers quite a bit today. I was quickly running out of calories to burn.

_Time to take a break,_ I noted bitterly when my legs started to wobble again. I cursed myself for being so weak.

I decided to give myself a five minute break before getting back to work. There at least was a tiny hole all the way through the wall now, thankfully. I wanted to make it bigger though, just in case.

It was only when I stopped shooting the flames out of my hands that I noticed the chill in the air.

_What the-?_

The freezer. They'd turned the freezer on to punish me.

For the last hour or so, every time someone tried to come in I'd sent a solid stream of flames at them. That way they couldn't even sneak in the room far enough to pull a gun on me again without my melting their faces off. Eventually they'd stopped trying. And I guess now I knew why.

I slumped to the floor and curled into a ball against the increasing cold. I was just so tired, and now the icy air was sucking the strength from my limbs. I didn't think I could fight anymore-

_"Zoey,"_ Charles' voice said.

My head snapped up, even though I knew I wouldn't see him. "Professor? Can you see me?"

_"Yes, barely."_

I sat up and hunched over. Relief gave me a new spark of hope, but that didn't stop it from being so cold!

"Thank God," I whispered. "Is Hank with you? I sent him to speak to Nick to buy me some time to make this hole in the wall. I set the other room on fire so they stuck me in a steel room and I didn't think you could see past it. The walls are over two feet thick and I think there's some glass or something, too."

I'd found out that little gem of information after I started trying to melt the stupid thing. Even though it didn't mean much in the circumstances, I still felt a little vindicated that I'd been right about Charles not being able to see me in here. It made me feel better to know that I hadn't sent Hank on a wild goose chase for no reason.

_"Yes, Hank's right here,"_ Charles assured me. _"He can hear you."_

"Hank, I'm so sorry," I said, speaking to the ceiling for lack of anywhere else. "I opened the door for Nick, he said he wanted to talk, but then all those other guys showed up and I couldn't fight them off when they chloroformed me because I was afraid of hurting the baby-"

A shiver passed over me. The sweat from my efforts earlier felt like it was freezing to my skin now.

_Great. Just great._

_"Hank says it's fine, as long as you and the-" _Charles paused. _"The baby?"_

"Surprise," I told him in a dry voice.

I tried to smile as I pulled my knees to my chest and crossed my arms over them. Warm. I needed to keep warm for the baby.

"We're pregnant."

_"Oh dear,"_ Charles muttered. _"Alright. Zoey, save your strength and don't bother opening the wall up anymore. I know where you are now, and we'll be there soon. You'll be alright until we get there, yes?"_

It was on the tip of my tongue, to tell him how dire the situation was. But something stopped me.

If I knew Hank- and I _did_- I would bet that he was probably barely holding it together as it was. Telling him that I was slowly freezing to death would only make it worse. And I needed him focused, as calm as possible, for him to come get me without getting himself hurt in the process.

"Should be," I agreed calmly.

The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, made me feel dirty, unclean. I started rubbing my arms in a combined effort to shake that ugly feeling and keep warm.

"I don't think they're going to bother me again- I mean, they know they've got me trapped in here, and I set the guard's shoes on fire last time he tried to come in. And they turn-"

I caught myself just in time.

_Stupid! Shut up!_

"I mean, I don't see them trying for round five."

_"Sit tight,"_ Charles told me. _"We're coming."_

"Ok," I agreed.

_Calm. Stay calm for Hank. Don't let him see how scared you are, or he'll be too worried to think straight when he gets here._

"Hank, I love you. Don't you _dare_ get yourself hurt when you're storming the castle, you got it?" I tried to joke.

_"He says to just worry about yourself and the baby," _Charles relayed. _"And that he loves you and he'll see you soon."_

And then they were gone, leaving me alone in the cold darkness.

I could only wait for my knight in shining armor to come save the day.

* * *

><p>I'm not sure how long I sat there, waiting. I kept having to stop myself from drifting off to sleep. My body wanted to shut down and succumb to the freezing air, but I refused to let it.<p>

First I burned my shoes for warmth- I figured with a bullet hole in one of them, I wasn't going to wear them again anyway- but all too soon they were gone. That left me without a fuel source, and I was too depleted to generate a flame long enough to really do much.

And I needed to conserve energy anyway. Shivering uncontrollably burns a lot of calories.

After that I took to pacing around the room, keeping my muscles moving and trying not to dwell on the fact that I'd be lucky if I made it out of this with all my fingers and toes still attached.

But then, after an eternity, I heard the Professor's voice in my head. It was so faint I almost couldn't hear it.

_"Zoey, we're here. Hank will be there soon."_

_Yes!_ I thought. My hands went to my tummy. _Baby, we're saved! Your dad is here!_

It was all I could do not to fall to my knees in relief, but I knew staying still would be unwise. Instead I hopped impatiently from foot to foot, straining to hear what was going on outside.

I just wanted to be back in Hank's arms, where I belonged.

_I swear when I'm out of here I'm going to latch onto him and not let him go until next week._

Suddenly my ears were assailed by the sound of screeching, tortured metal.

I formed a fireball in my hand, holding it in readiness just in case-

The solid steel freezer door was then wrenched off its hinges by a pair of blue, clawed hands.

_Dear Lord, my husband is so sexy._

A gush of wintry air rushed out of my prison, leaving Hank's hulking outline barely visible.

"Zoey?"

The fireball in my hand flickered out. It felt like the heat from the extinguished flames spread all over my body, starting right in the center of my heart.

Safe. The baby and I were safe.

"Hank," I whispered.

"Zoey," Hank croaked. "Sweetheart-"

I stumbled out of the freezer and fell right into his waiting arms with a deep, shuddering exhale of contentment. He lifted me right off my feet and held me tightly. You wouldn't hear me complaining about that.

"Zoey- oh, thank heavens," he mumbled. "I was so scared-"

All of the tension was draining out of me like water out of a leaky pipe. Everything was fine now that I was with my Hank, my beautiful, blue teddy bear knight in shining armor.

No matter what we faced from here on out, we'd be together. That's all that mattered.

I barely noticed that he reached over with one leg and shoved the freezer door shut, blocking the frigid air. I was just glad he didn't try to unwrap his arms from around me and let me dig my fingers into his fur as I tried to get the feeling back in them.

Hank was so _warm- _like my own personal sun. Pretty soon I'd completely defrost and just be a melted puddle on the floor.

I moved my head away from his chest and pulled him down for a kiss. Hank's ardent response sent my blood singing through my veins, warming me up faster than a warm fire or a hot summer's day.

"We're ok, Hank," I whispered earnestly, pressing kisses all over his beautiful, precious face. "It's ok. You're here now, darling, you have me-"

He squeezed me tighter, if that was possible. Hank needed the assurance, I knew- nothing shakes a man more than almost losing his wife and child. He needed to be reminded that we were safe, and that none of this was his fault.

"Th-the baby?" Hank asked hopefully, reluctantly setting me to my feet. He reached out and touched my stomach.

"Fine, I think," I assured him with a smile. My hand joined his on my tummy.

He let out a sigh of relief and grinned before pulling me in for another embrace.

_"Ahem,"_ someone interjected pointedly.

Hank and I jumped.

Raven was standing there, naked, blue and irritated. I'd been so wrapped up in my joy at seeing Hank again that I hadn't even noticed her. What on earth was she doing here, on a rescue mission? Last time I checked, altruism wasn't on her list of personality traits.

"Hello, Mystique," I greeted her uncertainly, glancing at Hank with evident confusion.

"Can you have this little reunion on the jet?" Raven snapped. "We're still in enemy territory, here."

_Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Would it kill her to be polite?_

"Let's get you out of here," Hank said, taking my hand. "Do you need me to carry you or do you want to walk?"

"I don't think I can walk very far," I admitted, feeling embarrassed.

I hated to admit the weakness in front of Raven, who was glaring at me coldly, like I was some sort of disgusting cockroach. But I was barely keeping my feet as it was.

"It's ok, my love," Hank assured me soothingly.

He easily scooped me up, bridal-style, and started trotting behind Raven.

"What happened to your sandals?" he asked after a minute.

"I burned them to keep warm," I replied simply, leaving out mention of the bullet hole.

Hank squeezed me closer, his expression rather tortured for some reason. I wanted to get him alone so I could comfort him, but I couldn't in front of Raven.

"Zoey, I'm-" he began.

And then he stopped.

"Don't move!" a male voice shouted from down the hall.

_No._


	23. Prince Charming

_Author's note: Thank you to NotMarge, partygirl98, kmj1989, and anonymouscsifan for the reviews! Sorry for the cliffhanger :-( But happy birthday to NotMarge today!_

* * *

><p><strong>Prince Charming<strong>

The directive came from one of two young men- practically boys, still- who had just stumbled into the hallway. They looked excited, their eyes over-bright and gleaming with madness. It gave me the creeps.

"Or we'll turn you into mutant Swiss cheese!"

The other guy chuckled giddily, like his friend had just made a hilarious joke.

Hank and Raven froze in place. I assumed they were trying to figure out a way to escape these tools.

Honestly, I wasn't that optimistic.

Both FOH goons were holding semi-automatic weapons. I didn't know much about guns, but I knew that not even Hank could get to those guys fast enough without them getting a few shots off first. And I knew that he would never risk me or the baby being in the line of fire like that.

There was no way forward. The only way was back the way we came...

"Let's kill them," the second kid said eagerly. "They'll _have_ to make us full members after this."

A low growl echoed deep in Hank's chest, signalling his anger. But for a second I felt only pity for these poor boys, who only had room for hatred in their hearts. They didn't know any better, did they?

_Pity isn't going to get you out of this._

No, it wouldn't. Those idiots, pitiable or no, were about to kill us all. And while there was nowhere else I'd rather die than in my husband's arms, I had my baby to think about. _Our_ baby.

"_Homo sapiens,_" Raven hissed, her fists clenched at her sides. "You think-"

I ignored her poisonous words, though I couldn't help musing that spewing more venom at our mutant-hating attackers wasn't going to do much good.

Instead I focused on trying to think our way out of this, considering our meager options.

_Hank's going to do whatever he can to make sure I live through this. And the only chance of that happening is if he uses himself as a human shield while he runs back the way we came once they start shooting..._

My mind was screaming at me.

_No! No! You can't let him do that!_

"Shut up!" one of the kids yelled, holding his gun up higher. "Let's kill all these freaks."

Hank squeezed me tighter. I could feel the silent meaning in the action, like he was trying to say goodbye and apologize without words.

He'd already given up hope of making it through alive. He was going to sacrifice himself for the baby and I.

_No! I can't do this without you!_

I _had_ to try to save him. He was the love of my life, the father of my child. I couldn't let him go without trying.

So I did something absolutely crazy. I had no idea if it would work, if it would actually just kill my husband faster, by _my_ hand instead of those FOH tools.

Their fingers went to squeeze the triggers-

Hank began to turn away, shielding my body with his-

And then I snapped my fingers, reaching out with my powers to ignite the gunpowder of the cartridges still in the magazines of their guns.

Both boys shrieked like little girls as the magazines of their guns blew out the bottoms.

_Wow. I can't believe that worked!_

Hank didn't give me any time to admire my own handiwork though. He made a run for it, passing Raven as she went on the counter-attack against our assailants and squeezing me so tightly to his chest it was getting a little hard to breathe.

One minute later all three of us were out of the building and breaking for the copse of trees directly ahead of us. I had no idea where we were.

"Charles!" Hank called out. "Charles, we've got her!"

_Splendid. I'll let the others know._

Raven shouted angrily up at the sky, "Where the hell were you two seconds ago when we had machine guns aimed at our heads?"

_I'm so sorry, love. Alex and Erik were having- a bit of a disagreement._

Hank groaned in reply.

Erik Lehnsherr was here, too? Helping the X-Men? But why? Since when did the Brotherhood help out the X-Men?

I sensed an ulterior motive, but there wasn't any time- or energy- to consider it.

Just then we reached the Blackbird jet that Hank had designed several years ago. I could never look at that plane without a surge of pride, because my husband had built it. I was proud to call myself his wife.

Always.

Hank set me down once we were inside, but thankfully kept his arm around me. I was still rather wobbly.

_I just want to sleep for the next three days. Preferably with Hank holding me._

"It's so good to see you safe and sound, Zoey," Charles said, giving me a relieved grin. He reached out and squeezed my hand. "Congratulations on the baby, dear."

I smiled back as best I could. "Thank you."

Raven plopped herself down in a jump seat, looking irritated. "Can we get out of here now?"

"Just a minute, love."

Hank sat down across from Raven and pulled me into his lap. I was more than happy to curl up there and snuggle against his neck while he held me tightly and nuzzled my hair.

_I'm back where I belong, _I thought, with a growing feeling of contentment.

I couldn't help noticing the ugly look on Raven's face as she watched Hank and I. Was she jealous that Hank was happy now? With me?

_Thank heavens I'm a secure woman._

I knew, deep in my heart, that what I had with Hank was strong. Certainly stronger than Raven's petty jealousies and venomous hatred for anything that strayed from her narrow-mind world view. She couldn't touch the love that we had for each other.

Secure as I was, it still felt _very_ nice that Hank was showering me with affection right in front of her. I'm human, after all.

Sean, Alex, and Erik showed up soon after we sat down. Sean looked fine, but Alex had a black eye and Erik was sporting a busted lip. Both of them kept giving each other filthy, murderous looks.

Alex managed to give us a small smile and a nod. "I'll go ahead and pilot the jet home."

"Thanks," Hank said sincerely.

Neither of us were ready to let go of each other just yet.

"Hi, Zoey," Sean greeted me, in an overly cheerful voice.

He was clearly trying to ease the tension between the other two. Erik was silent and sullen as Alex stalked past him on the way to the cockpit. He took the seat next to Raven and basically ignored the rest of us.

"Glad you're ok."

"Thanks, Sean," I replied. "I'm glad all of you are safe, too."

They risked their lives to save me. I felt honored that they thought I was worth the trouble.

Sean shrugged. "It was actually kinda fun."

"Fun or not," Charles interjected, "it's over and done with. Let's go home."

* * *

><p>I stayed cuddled up in Hank's lap the entire plane ride back to the Institute, wrapped in a blanket Sean managed to scrounge up for me.<p>

Between the blanket, Hank's fur, and his gentle caresses it was easy to fall into a light doze, with my face snuggled against his neck. I was quite content.

Plus, I could feel my fingers and toes again. So there was that, too.

"How'd you know igniting the gunpowder in the cartridges would work, sweetheart?" Hank asked very quietly, after a very long time. "How'd you know the bullets wouldn't shoot out of the magazine?"

The question brought that horrible moment when I thought the love of my life was about to die right in front of my eyes rushing back to the surface. The chance I took to save him, not knowing if it would be _my own_ actions that killed him. I had to suppress a shudder at the recollection.

_Nothing happened to him. He's fine. We're all fine. Fine._

"I didn't know," I murmured, my voice thick with sleep. "But I knew what you were about to do, and I couldn't let you sacrifice yourself without trying to save you. I took a chance, and it worked."

Hank seemed to be at a loss for words. He could only hug me tighter.

How to make him understand? I didn't think there were words powerful enough to tell him how much I needed him, how deeply I loved him. But I gave it a try anyway.

"Our baby needs his father," I whispered. "A-and _I_ need my Hank."

"I'm here, Zoey," he said fervently. "I'm- _so_ proud of you."

It startled me into a laugh. "You're the one who came in on a white horse," I noted incredulously. "Thank you, for saving me."

My hero. My knight in shining armor. My-

"I guess I'm your 'Prince Charming,' after all," Hank murmured.

_Finally, he gets it. I guess there was a bright side to this fiasco after all._


	24. The First Step

_Author's note: Thank you to NotMarge, partygirl98, anonymouscsifan, and kmj1989 for the reviews! Today's chapter is a revisit of the big discussion between Hank and Zoey that plants the seed for Hank to become a mutant rights activist._

_Warning: it's a little soul-crushing and slightly graphic in the beginning._

* * *

><p><strong>The First Step<strong>

_All the breath escapes my lungs as I stare at the prone furry blue figure on the floor. A pool of blood is rapidly expanding underneath the body, and his big yellow eyes, always so full of life and love, are now wide and glassy-looking._

_They stare right through me, complete unseeing._

_"No! Hank! Darling, don't leave me like this!"_

_But my screams fall on deaf ears. My love has gone to where I can't follow._

_I'm sobbing on my knees now, so hard that at first I attribute the pain in my abdomen to my overwhelming grief, but no- the torturous feeling is getting worse and worse. It's like someone is twisting a serrated knife into my gut, over and over._

_I glance down to see blood trickling down my legs._

_Our baby. Our baby! I'm losing him- the last piece of Hank I have left._

_"This can't be happening," I whimper, clutching my stomach._

This wasn't real...

_Hank, our baby gone-_

I had to be dreaming...

_I'm alone._

I wrenched myself awake with a gasp, bolting upright and looking around wildly for some sign of reassurance.

Hank was laying next to me, his big blue eyes growing soft and concerned as my gaze met his.

"Hi," he said quietly. He reached up and brushed my hair back from my face. "You ok?"

All the tension in my body immediately drained away, replaced instead by a sense of relief that left me feeling boneless and weak.

I sighed and flopped back down to snuggle with my beautiful, _living_ husband.

"Just a bad dream," I muttered. "I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Mhmm. Just hold me for a while," I murmured.

Hank wrapped his arms around me, pressing me against the naked skin of his chest. For a while I just savored his presence, letting it envelope and calm me further. Just being with him like that chased away the horror of my dream, the fear of losing him.

He was safety and love. To me, he was _home._

"Zoey?" he asked eventually. He turned on his side so we were face-to-face.

"Hmm?"

I opened my eyes and studied Hank's face closely. He looked pensive and worried, like he had something very important to tell me and was psyching himself up for it. I waited patiently, knowing that he would speak up when he was ready.

Hank took a deep breath. "I can't use my serum anymore," he told me.

_Finally__._

I barely noticed the way he cringed in anticipation of my reaction because I was too busy experiencing a curious mixture of relief and triumph.

Ever since we found out I was pregnant, I'd been wondering how to bring up the topic of Hank's serum. Their father using a drug that suppressed his mutation wasn't exactly the best message to send a child- especially when we wanted our baby to grow up knowing there was nothing wrong with being a mutant.

But it was a realization I wanted Hank to come to on his own. Even as his wife, I didn't feel it was my place to tell him to discard his last vestiges of "normalcy." I wasn't that kind of woman.

I'd had a lot of time to think about that serum while I was stuck in that freezer, trying to keep my mind off the fact that I couldn't feel my extremities anymore. I already knew why Hank felt he needed to destroy it- now that the FOH knew such a thing existed, he was afraid that people would come after us to force him into making a "cure" for the mutant gene.

And when forced to pick between using his serum and keeping the baby and I safe, he'd chosen us over himself.

This wasn't exactly the way I'd envisioned Hank having his "come to Jesus" moment about hiding his mutation, but I supposed it would have to do.

"Yes, I know," I replied simply.

"Y-you do?" he sputtered.

He was staring at me like I'd grown a second head.

_Oh, come on. Your tone of surprise is slightly offensive._

"Yes. You're worried that as long as your serum exists, people will come after us and try to force you to make a cure," I explained.

Hank nodded slowly, still full of disbelief.

"It's not going to be easy," he said. He looked frightened. "I'm afraid of what people are going to say. Not just to me, but to you as well."

Like I hadn't dealt with my share of insults in the past. The disparaging remarks about my gender, my business decisions. I didn't believe for a moment that we wouldn't have our fair share of accusations of bestiality and all manner of horrible things, but I knew I could handle it.

I _had_ to, to be strong for my Hank.

"Sticks and stones, Hank," I replied, with an awkward shrug. "I know who my husband is, and that's what matters."

He let out a long, slow sigh of relief. "Thank you," he whispered, leaning in to give me a kiss.

I cradled his face in my hands when we came up for air, stroking along his cheeks with my thumbs. This would be the last morning I woke up next to this face.

_I'm going to miss those big blue eyes._

I allowed myself one little moment of mourning, but then quickly dismissed it. Sure, I'd initially been attracted to Hank's cute and nerdy exterior, but that had fallen away as I got to know him. It wasn't the face he wore that mattered. It was just _him_, the man underneath it.

"I'm glad you came to this decision on your own," I admitted quietly. "To not use your serum anymore."

Hank frowned. "How's that?"

"For the baby," I replied. "He's probably going to be a mutant, and-"

"'He?'" Hank repeated.

Suddenly he was grinning, his tone teasing and light. I think he was coming down off a bit of an adrenalin high, considering how tense he'd been about telling me he couldn't use his serum anymore. The relief was making him giddy.

Hank ducked his head under the covers to kiss all over my belly.

"You think it's a boy?" he asked, his head still hidden by the sheets.

"Oh, I don't know," I deferred. "But whenever I picture the baby I see a boy with cute little monkey-toes and big gold eyes."

_How adorable will our baby be?_

"I see," Hank mused.

He started kissing along my stomach, up to my chest and then my neck, while his hands made patterns against my suddenly oversensitive skin.

_Why, hello there._

"But- but that's not what I was getting at," I gasped, squirming against him eagerly.

"Right," Hank agreed. He moved off of me and settled down on his side to listen, his hand on my tummy. "Please continue."

_I can't. I forgot what I was saying. Why'd you stop?_

I pouted at him, but explained anyway. "It's not really fair of us to tell a child they should accept themselves when we hide too, don't you think?"

Hank immediately sobered. I hated seeing the smile vanish from his face.

"Yes, I see your point," he murmured uneasily.

He rolled back over to stare at the ceiling with an expression of evident frustration.

It felt like all the relieved joy had suddenly been sucked out of the atmosphere. I'd never seen Hank look like this over something I'd said- he actually looked rather angry.

I immediately felt contrite. I hadn't meant to imply that he was a hypocrite or anything like that.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I didn't mean to upset you, Hank."

"You didn't," he replied. "I just-"

He paused, as if gathering his thoughts.

"I _hate_ this. I hate what I'm going to put you through, what our _child_ is going to go through, just for what we are," Hank said finally. "It's not- it's not _fair_."

I propped myself up on one elbow so I could see his face. "At least we'll have Xavier's though, right?" I reasoned. "Our baby is always going to have somewhere to belong."

"Somehow it doesn't feel like enough," he retorted, shaking his head. "Yes, there's somewhere, but what happens when he gets older? If yesterday proved anything, it's that this world is a dangerous place for mutants. Hiding away passively here at the mansion isn't doing anything to change that."

Hank sighed.

"I'm starting to wonder if Charles' way is truly the best approach," he muttered. "It feels like we're just hiding here, waiting for the world to magically change and become safe for mutants. But we're not _doing _anything to fix it. I want- I want more for our baby than this."

I felt a rush of unease pass over me.

If Charles' way wasn't enough, what did that leave us with? Magneto's? Raven's? Going out and fighting a war, striking first before the humans got to us?

Had me getting kidnapped by the FOH completely change Hank's mind about humanity?

Suddenly I feared that my husband was about to slip through my fingers, that I would lose him to the Brotherhood. I would always love him, of course, but I could never abide him taking such a militaristic view of human-mutant relations.

"Hank, you're starting to scare me," I said anxiously, before my thoughts could stray further. "What are you saying? That you agree with Magneto now?"

"No, of course not," he replied earnestly, turning to face me again. "I'm not talking about mutant superiority. I-"

Hank paused, as if he just had a revelation.

"I think that's why Erik and Raven agreed to help us," he mused aloud. "They were hoping that you getting kidnapped would sway at least one of the X-Men into changing sides."

I said nothing- I was still too worried that they'd succeeded.

"It didn't work, sweetheart," Hank promised. "I was talking about mutant _equality_, not superiority."

I relaxed somewhat.

A world where our baby was free to just be himself, mutant or no. That was something I could get behind, though I wasn't sure how Hank would go about achieving it.

But he was right- secrecy and segregation, the way we currently operated, would never win over humanity's acceptance. If we did nothing, nothing would change.

"Ok," I said finally. "Ok, I understand. But what are you going to do, Hank? I think we can agree that wanting change is only the first step. Step two is actually _taking_ it."

Hank's expression fell slightly. "Dreaming big is one thing, but making them come true is a different story," he murmured absently.

"Darling, you're one of the greatest inventors the world has ever seen," I said firmly.

I hadn't intended to make him second guess himself- only to find out if he had an inkling of a plan just yet. Now I quickly tried to encourage him- encourage him with only the truth.

"Making dreams a reality is what you _do_."

"I think da Vinci would take offense to that," Hank noted dryly.

"Good thing he's dead then," I retorted, sticking my tongue out at him. "Besides, most of his work was theoretical. _Yours_ is practical."

"Thanks for clearing that up," he replied with a grin.

He pulled me in for a long, lingering kiss.

"I love you," he said, stroking my cheek with one hand.

"I love you, Hank," I told him sincerely. I turned my head to kiss his palm. "You'll think of something, darling. I have faith in you."


	25. Grey's End

_Author's note: Thank you to NotMarge, partygirl98, anonymouscsifan, and kmj1989 for the reviews! Time for some Zoey vs. Nick action for the last time ;-)_

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><p><strong>Grey's End<strong>

There was so much to do in the aftermath of my kidnapping- things like dealing with Nicholas Grey, finding a new place to live, and telling Billy and Marceline about Hank's second mutation and the threat of the FOH.

But those things, we decided, could wait. The first thing Hank wanted to do was destroy his serum.

I understood why he needed to do this. It served a dual purpose of getting rid of the threat posed by the FOH and other mutant-hating organizations, and also removing the temptation for Hank to use it again. Burning a bridge, metaphorically speaking, giving him a fresh start.

_Just like Cortez burning his ships after arriving in the New World. The only way to go is onward._

So after we got dressed and ate a quick breakfast, Hank led me down to his laboratory to do the deed. I waited quietly while he gathered up the remaining bottles and his notes on its derivation.

Hank took a deep breath, and for the last time shifted into Beast.

"R-ready?" he asked.

The way his voice cracked slightly broke my heart.

I couldn't even imagine what he was going through, purposely destroying the substance that had allowed him to live in relative anonymity for so many years. From now on Hank would show his true self to the rest of the world. He would have to face the cruelty of public opinion and leave "normal" behind.

And he was doing it for me, my safety.

Me, and the baby I was carrying.

In that moment, I knew that I would do everything I could to honor his sacrifice. Nothing anyone could ever say to me would stop me from loving this noble, honorable man. I just hoped I was worth the pain he would go through.

I nodded in reply to Hank's question and started unscrewing the tops of the bottles.

And then he poured them down the sink, one by one. It took everything in me not to cry at the heartbroken look on his face.

But I couldn't. I needed to be strong for him now.

"Would you do the honors?" Hank asked me, holding up his notes.

I blinked, and the papers caught fire- blue flames eagerly licking up the sheets, turning them into ashes.

Hank sighed as they fell into the sink.

"Good riddance," he muttered in a voice full of false bravado.

_Oh, Hank._

"Don't say that," I argued gently. "Without that serum, I doubt we would've ever met. So that's something to be thankful for, isn't it? It's just- it's not _necessary_ anymore, is all."

The look in his eyes when he looked up at me was a little lost. I hated to see him like this- and there was nothing I could do to fix it.

"I understand, Hank," I said, a paltry offering in the face of such grief. "I'm so sorry."

"I'll be ok," he promised. "Eventually. Just- just be there for me."

_Of course. Where else would I be?_

"Always, darling."

I held out my arms, and Hank sank to his knees with a heavy exhale. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed his ear against my tummy while I stroked his hair.

_Together, we can face anything. We'll be ok._

* * *

><p>After that we headed back over to our apartment to rendezvous with Chloe and Olivia, who'd stayed there last night rather than with their erstwhile husbandfather.

And then it was time to face him, the man who beat my sister and sold Hank and I out to the FOH. Hank mentioned that Nick had even told Olivia she wasn't his daughter anymore, the rotten bastard.

Nick was going to be lucky if he made it out of the house with his face un-melted and his eyebrows still attached.

"Are you sure all the stress you're putting yourself through is a good idea?" Hank asked hesitantly as he drove us over to the house.

"I'm not stressed," I replied serenely. "I'm so furious I'm absolutely calm."

And truthfully, my rage was _beyond_ high blood pressure and throbbing veins. It was as if what that man had done to my family was so unspeakable that my anger was inexpressible as well.

Nicholas was knocked over sideways when we got in the house, his wrists and ankles taped to a chair. He also smelled badly of urine, which was nasty.

_Nice work, Hank and Olivia!_

"Have you come to kill me, you freaks?" Nick hissed impudently.

_That's some big talk for a guy duct-taped to a chair._

I'd always considered myself a compassionate, decent person, but I couldn't summon up an ounce of pity for this man.

Nick thought we might kill him, but that would be a mercy- and I wasn't feeling merciful at all at this moment. No, the better punishment would be to take away everything that mattered to Nick and then making him live with it for the rest of his miserable, spiteful life, while his wife and daughter became happier beyond their wildest dreams _without him._

Death was much, much too good for him.

"You're too pitiful for that," I retorted coldly. "It'd be like killing an obnoxious puppy."

Hank let out a growl as he set Nick upright and then came to stand by my side. I wrapped my arms around Chloe, willing her to be strong.

This was her time, her opportunity to finally break away from Nick's abuse. She was only twenty-eight, so there was plenty of time to get her life together and _be happy._ That's all I wanted for my sister.

"Come on, Chloe," I told her. "You can do this."

"I-I want a divorce," Chloe announced timidly.

_Yeah, that'll show him. Come on, Chloe, you can do better than that!_

Nick snorted derisively. "You can't divorce me. What would you even do with yourself? You're _worthless_ without me."

"Don't say that to Mama," Olivia scolded shrilly. "Daddy-"

"Don't call me that," Nicholas spat. "I don't have a daughter anymore, you little freak."

Olivia recoiled like his remark was a physical blow.

Though my reflex-reaction was to retaliate, I managed to stop myself.

_He's not worth it._

Hank snarled and made to step forward, but he immediately withdrew when I placed a hand on his arm. Nick cringed away anyway, the coward.

"I'm not going to stay with someone who calls my daughter a freak," Chloe replied, her voice becoming stronger in response to the insult to Olivia.

This, I realized, was motherhood. Finding strength within yourself that you never knew you had in order to protect your child.

"Or who hits me and treats me like garbage," Chloe continued. "Not anymore."

She took a deep breath.

"I want you to leave this house and never come back."

"You can't kick me out-"

"I can," I interjected cheerfully. "And I'll do it gladly."

"If- if you do I'll tell the cops your freak show husband assaulted me and tied me to a chair-"

_Grasping at straws now, are you, Grey?_

"And I'll tell them you kidnapped me and beat your wife for years," I retorted. "I've heard they don't like wife-beaters in prison. Chloe, do you want to press charges?"

Nicholas turned pale at the thought of going to prison.

I think he had a brief moment of clarity just then- he realized that a man like him, a complete coward who put up an intimidating front that collapsed at the first sign of challenge- would not do well in prison.

Though I put the threat out there, I actually hoped Chloe would choose to not press charges. She didn't need the pain and struggle of a lengthy court battle. What she needed was a clean break, to never see Nick again so she could heal and move on with her life.

But it was ultimately her decision. I would support her no matter what.

"Only if he refuses to leave us alone," Chloe whispered. "If he promises to never bother any of us again, I won't press charges."

I let out a mental sigh of relief before focusing on the task at hand: laying down the law.

"You hear that, Nick?" I told him. "You're going to pack all of your stuff up today, and never set foot on this property again. Chloe's going to file for divorce- and probably a restraining order, just to be thorough- and then you're going to stay far, far away from all of us. Otherwise we'll make sure you spend the next twenty-plus years rotting in prison. _If_ you survive that long."

The look on his face was _priceless_.

"It's over, Grey," Hank said quietly. "I want you to go back to the Friends of Humanity and tell them the serum is gone, and so is the formula. There _is_ no cure, and there never will be. If the FOH threatens my family again, what happened last night is just a taste of what will come for them."

He stepped closer, looming over Nick so the other man cowered away from him. He even tried to scoot the chair back.

Was it crazy that Hank being all menacing and threatening was sexy to me? Because he totally was.

"And as for _you_- if any of these ladies so much as has an _accident_ that seems suspect, rest assured that I will blame you for it," Hank growled. "And I will hunt you down like the gutless cur you are. Do you understand?"

_Swoon._

Nick nodded soundlessly, looking terrified. But I still couldn't feel bad for him, the rat bastard.

After that Hank ripped off the duct tape on Nick's wrists and ankles using his claws, and then followed him around the house to keep an eye on him while he packed.

"You know, you're very attractive when you're trying to be intimidating," I told Hank as we watched Nick pack his bags into the back of his car.

Chloe and Olivia had deferred from seeing him leave. It was just too painful, no matter how horrible he was. The time had come to start the healing.

Hank snorted and glanced down at me. "Really?"

"Definitely."

"If you say so," he replied. His cheeks flushed adorably purple.

He was strong and fierce when he had to be, but still so bashful about compliments- even after almost five years of marriage. My husband was a perfectly imperfect juxtaposition of so many things, and I loved him to death for it.

He pulled me in for an embrace just as Nick finished loading the trunk.

My ex-brother-in-law gave us one last dirty look and then drove away.

We never saw him again.

When I found out that he'd shot himself in the head a few weeks later, I couldn't say I was the least bit sorry.


	26. At the Doctor's Office

_Author's note: Thank you to partygirl98, kmj1989, and anonymouscsifan for the reviews! Time to go to the doctor, everybody._

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><p><strong>At the Doctor's Office<strong>

Hank had a brooding expression on his face as he drove me to the doctor's office.

I completely understood why- this was going to be the first time we would be going out into public since he stopped taking his serum, and Hank feared what the reaction to him would be.

Personally, I felt like the day before, when we'd gone to visit my godparents, had been much more nerve-wracking. I couldn't care less what a bunch of strangers thought of us, but Billy and Marceline were a different story. I'd put up a calm front for Hank, but I was secretly just as worried as he was about how they would react.

I knew who I would've chosen if the encounter hadn't gone well, but I was beyond relieved that it hadn't been necessary. I think deep down I knew that there was no way that my godparents, who'd always been so supportive of us, would desert Hank and I now.

But that hurdle was past us. They'd been quite accepting of Hank, for which I was thankful, and even helped us figure out our approach to daily life from now on.

Today would be the first test of that. Hence, my darling husband's endless, gloomy ruminating.

_Today's not the day to be broody. We're going to see our baby! I think he needs a reminder..._

"I'm so excited," I announced, clapping my hands a little. "We're going to see our baby for the first time! And we'll hear his heartbeat! Aren't you excited?"

Hank answering smile was slow, as if the realization was slowly dawning on him that _yes_, we really were going to see the baby today. The other details were extraneous.

The reminder shifted him back into "daddy mode," just as I thought it would. I knew Hank was genuinely looking forward to being a father. It was just that sometimes he got stuck on the negative side of things and needed to be pulled out of the gloom.

"Yes, I am," he replied, obviously making an effort. "What do you think he's going to look like?"

"Right now? Like a giant sea monkey."

Oh, the look on his face was _adorable._ It was a struggle not to laugh at him.

Hank frowned as he glanced over at me, but then realized I was simply teasing.

"Hey, watch it," he joked, finally snapping out of it. "That's my kid you're talking about."

We laughed until we got to the doctor's office. But then the smile died on Hank's face as he regarded the building, full of trepidation.

I took his hand off the steering wheel and gave it a comforting squeeze. "You ready, darling?"

His eyes met mine, seeking comfort.

_I won't let anyone hurt you, my love. Not without going through me first. No one insults my husband and gets away with it._

I wouldn't let him go through this alone.

My brave, amazing husband. I loved him with all my heart.

"Zoey, I-"

"I know," I interjected, smiling a little. "Now, let's go."

* * *

><p>Ever get the feeling that everyone is staring at you? Like there's a spotlight zeroed in right on you, blinding you and burning like you're an ant caught under a magnifying glass?<p>

That's exactly what happened as soon as we stepped inside the building. _Every single person_ in that doctor's office turned to look at my husband and started staring at him like he was some sort of zoo exhibit.

The blatant rudeness set my teeth on edge- especially when I felt Hank instinctively shrink away from the intense scrutiny.

I needed to be strong for him right now.

So I held my head up high as I practically frogmarched him over to the receptionist's desk, ignoring the other patients.

We must've made quite a sight, a short little redheaded girl dragging this big blue teddy bear around. In my eyes it was just proof that Hank was really a gentle giant.

But would they be able to see that?

The receptionist- who wore far too much makeup, in my opinion- was badly startled when she looked up and saw us.

"C-can I help you?" she sputtered.

Her eyes darted briefly to me, but then went right back to Hank. She stared at him like she expected him to reach over the counter and eat her at any moment.

"Yes, thank you," I replied, fighting to keep my tone polite.

_Didn't your parents ever teach you it's impolite to stare?_

"I have an appointment at ten with Dr. Stevenson."

"Um- ok," the receptionist said hastily. She fumbled awkwardly with her paperwork, mainly because she was too busy staring at Hank to do her job properly. "Zoey McCoy?"

"That's me," I agreed, pasting a plastic smile on my face.

"H-here's some forms for you to fill out," she muttered.

She practically threw the clipboard at us, like she was afraid Hank would grab her if she got too close. Hank caught it before it skittered off the counter, moving with lightning quickness.

I glanced at him and saw the pained expression on his face- he looked like he was cursing himself for moving too fast.

_Oh, darling..._

He was trying _so hard_ not to be intimidating, my poor Hank.

"Take a seat, and someone will be with you shortly."

"Thank you," Hank said quietly.

The receptionist made no reply. She stared at us blankly as we turned away and headed over to the waiting area.

"You ok?" I whispered as we sat down.

The lady across from us took one look at us, got up, and went to take another seat as far away from us as possible.

"I'm fine," Hank murmured.

He was obviously lying. I felt rather stupid for asking in the first place, though Hank would never intentionally make me feel that way.

But Hank was suffering.

I sighed and leaned my head against his shoulder while I filled out the paperwork, trying to offer some comfort. But he kept his posture rigid and his eyes trained on the ground. I could hear people fidgeting and whispering around us, though I couldn't hear what they were saying.

But I knew Hank could. He could hear every single thing those people were whispering about him. He was just too good a person to actually confront them.

_"Get back here,"_ a woman's voice suddenly hissed.

I glanced over to see a woman frantically beckoning to a little boy, who had come over to stand in front of Hank.

"'Scuse me, Mister," the boy said- he had to be only eight or so. He had his thumbs in his pockets and a genuinely curious expression on his face. "Are you a mutant?"

Everyone was staring again.

Hank nodded. "Yes."

"Are you sick?"

"No."

"Then what're you here for?" the boy asked.

His frank curiosity brought a smile to my face. The great thing about kids is that while they may not have boundaries, they also don't have prejudices, either. This one little boy was the only person who was treating Hank like a human being, rather than pointing and staring like people at the circus.

"My wife's having a baby," Hank explained.

Suddenly the atmosphere turned glacial, and I felt everyone turn their attention to me, instead.

I ignored the judgment I could feel in their stares and kept smiling at the little boy.

Their condemnation meant nothing to me, not when I knew what a wonderful man I was married to. Those people were petty and shallow for not being able to comprehend a love that transcended trivialities like physical appearance.

"Are you sick?" Hank asked kindly.

_See, all of you? He's a complete sweetheart. All day, every day. Just take the time to see into his heart..._

The little boy looked uneasy and shook his head. "I'm here for a shot."

"Oh. Well that's not too bad," Hank mused.

"D-d'you think it'll hurt?"

Hank didn't answer for a moment, like he was seriously considering the question.

_He's going to be such a good father. He's so good with kids._

"For a brave boy like you? I think you'll be just fine," Hank told him.

The boy grinned, revealing several missing teeth.

"Johnny, _get over here_," the woman from earlier snapped.

I called her some rather unsavory things in my head. It was _very_ tempting to tell that woman where to go, but I restrained myself.

Barely.

"I think your mother needs you," Hank murmured, gesturing to the woman.

"Right. Sorry for bothering you, Mister," Johnny mumbled, scuffing his shoes on the floor.

"It's ok," Hank assured him. "Good luck."

Johnny made his way back over to his mother, who grabbed him roughly by the arm and started whispering furiously. Though I couldn't hear the words, I got the gist of it.

_I should say something-_

"Mrs. McCoy?" a nurse called out.

_Damn._

Hank stood and offered me his hand.

It was clear that he didn't want to cause a scene. So as much as I hated to, I had to let it go.

Besides- as I looked around at the other patrons in the waiting room, I could see that Hank's interaction with the child had somewhat lessened their antipathy towards him.

One of the ladies even smiled at Hank as he offered me his arm. It was a small victory, even though this ordeal had been more than a little stressful.

The nurse waiting for us looked startled, but made no comments as she led us to an exam room. She was nervous though- she had to take my pulse twice because she was too busy looking at Hank.

"The doctor will be with you shortly," she announced, before making a run for it.

Hank let out a long, slow breath. "This _is_ going better than I thought it would," he said. "It's not picnic, but..."

"Let's not get too cocky yet," I teased. "Not until we walk out of this room and there's no armed mob standing in the lobby."

He stared at me, absolutely horrified.

_Ok. Maybe he doesn't have a sense of humor about this. Fair enough._

"Hank, I'm _joking_. Maybe it's harder for you because you've seen the worst in humanity, but I want to believe people can change their minds if you show them the truth," I said earnestly. "Just think of what you're-"

A knock sounded at the door, and Dr. Stevenson entered.

"Hello, you two," he greeted us.

His eyes flared slightly as he looked Hank over, but he gave no other reaction.

_Ah, the nurse warned you._

"Hello, Doctor," I said politely.

He asked some questions about my general well-being, and concluded that everything was going well so far. Hank visibly relaxed upon hearing that.

But then the doctor's expression became uncomfortable.

"I-I hate to ask such a personal question, but- did something happen to you, Dr. McCoy?" he asked tentatively.

Hank winced. "I began expressing a secondary mutation," he explained. "I'm a mutant."

"We both are," I added, glaring at the man. It was my "CEO look," as Gwen liked to call it. "Will that be a problem, Doctor?"

Dr. Stevenson wilted. He shook his head quickly.

"It's just good to know, for the delivery," he explained lamely.

_Or you're just being nosy._

"Why don't we take a look?" Dr. Stevenson asked hastily.

I forgot to be surly in my excitement to see the baby for the first time. Hank and I had both been looking forward to this for _weeks._

Hank held my hand after I buttoned my blouse and laid down, eagerly waiting for the doctor to get a good look with the ultrasound wand.

Dr. Stevenson chuckled suddenly. "Well, well," he muttered, flipping a switch.

The sound of our baby's heartbeat filled the room. It sounded strong and healthy, a complete rebuttal to every fear I'd had over the weekend, that my kidnapping had hurt the baby somehow.

I glanced at Hank's face, expecting to see him looking just as happy as I was feeling.

_Wait, what?_

He was frowning, the exact opposite of what I expected. His head was tilted to the side as he listened intently.

My heart sank. Could he hear something wrong? But I thought-

"Congratulations," Dr. Stevenson announced, turning the screen towards us.

There were two little blips on the monitor.

_Two._

Two! We were having two babies! And I didn't care that they looked like little sea monkeys right now, they were _beautiful._

And they were _ours._

My eyes immediately filled with tears of joy.

"You're having twins!"


	27. Not Yet

_Author's note: Thank you to kmj1989, partygirl98, and anonymouscsifan for the reviews! I just wanted to give you guys a head's up that this will be the last post until next Friday. My best friend is coming to visit me! I'm so excited! I've seen her only once in the past four years (part of the "joy" of being a military wife), so I really want to spend time with her. I'll be back, though! Please don't abandon me, faithful readers. You guys are awesome :-)_

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><p><strong>Not Yet<strong>

For two weeks, our strategy- to just go about life as usual, as if there had been no change- worked quite well.

Sure, Hank got a lot of frightened looks, and sometimes people saw him coming and immediately turned around and went in the opposite direction. But there were no physical or verbal attacks on him during that time. Mostly the people of Salem Center were content to leave him be if he returned the favor.

I guess it was really just a matter of time before something happened, though.

It was a Thursday, and we were at the cafe, as usual. I was looking for my book of the week while Hank and Billy chatted at the counter. Hank was supposed to ask if we could borrow Billy's truck for our move the following weekend.

Both of us were excited about moving into our new house. I loved our apartment, but with two babies on the way there simply wasn't enough space. And our house, with its star-gazing balcony and multiple fireplaces, was absolutely _perfect_. I was looking forward to raising our children there.

_Plus, I'll get to watch Hank lift our furniture all alone. Hmm..._

I found myself wondering if he would do it shirtless, if I asked?

_Gosh, since when is my mind so dirty?_

I had a feeling it was thanks to my pregnancy hormones. They were going absolutely haywire, making my mood vacillate wildly for no reason at all. The other day I burst into tears over Sydney stealing part of my sandwich, and then continued to cry because Hank was so nice about making me a new one without complaint.

It was absolutely mortifying, and in a way, a little terrifying. I felt exhausted from going through so many mood extremes all the time, and guilty about Hank having to put up with my nonsense. It was almost like I had completely ceded control of my body and emotions to an alien invader- or two, in this case. I was afraid that I would lose myself during the takeover.

I was so lost in my musings that I grabbed a book at that looked interesting and made my way to the counter without checking the title.

"Sweetheart, you already have that book," Hank said gently when he saw the cover. "After you read it you told me we were never going to the beach again, remember?"

_Huh?_

"Really?" I asked blankly.

I stared at the cover- _Jaws_, by Peter Benchley. He was right, we did already have it. Oops.

"Oh, right. Duh," I muttered. I turned back to the shelves, on the quest for another book. "I must be losing my mind."

"Pregnancy brain fog?" Billy suggested to Hank.

_Oooh, Hank you better answer that correctly!_

I glanced over to see him shrugging unhelpfully. Instead of, you know, _defending_ me. My temper immediately flared.

"Hey!" I snapped. "I heard that! And I'll have you know, I'm growing _two_ babies here. Cut me some slack."

Billy and Hank started _laughing_ in my face, having a grand old time at my expense while I wrestled to stifle my sudden feelings of betrayal.

Wasn't it Hank's _job_, to be understanding about my pregnancy? It wasn't easy to grow a new human, let alone_ two_, and I had to pee all the time and my feet hurt and-

_Don't you dare cry right now, McCoy. They don't mean anything by it. You're being oversensitive and irrational._

Hank's chuckling cut off rather suddenly.

For a second I thought it was because he saw the murder in my expression, but then I realized it was because a new person had entered the shop. Hank had made it a policy not to laugh too exuberantly in public since he stopped taking his serum, because he worried people would be uneasy about his fangs.

Disgust was evident on the newcomer's expression as soon as he saw my husband. It immediately put me on my guard- I stopped looking for a new book all together and instead stood among the shelves, watching the scene unfold.

The man- middle-aged, balding, and grumpy- stalked over and stood behind Hank for perhaps only two seconds before speaking.

_"Ahem,"_ he said loudly, eyeing my husband like he was something nasty he'd found on his shoe. "Are you going to order, freak, or not?"

Every pair of eyes in the shop zeroed in on the pair of them. Even the patrons who'd warily tolerated Hank for the past several minutes were now watching with a sort of sickening eagerness, like the spectators at the Coliseum or a bear-baiting.

They expected the "monster" to act like one.

Billy frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but Hank shook his head in silent warning. That was Hank- unassuming, never wanting to cause a scene.

He turned slowly, without aggression. "I'm sorry, sir," he said politely. "I'm not quite ready to order yet. Please, go ahead."

Baldy sneered as Hank stepped aside for him, giving no sign of thanks or courtesy.

"Can you believe they let something like that in town?" he commiserated to Billy, jerking his head towards Hank.

I couldn't see Hank's face, and for that I was grateful. I didn't want to see the inevitable pain in his expression, for being treated like some sort of lesser being who didn't even warrant basic politeness. The set of his shoulders and the clench of his fists told me enough.

"I don't have a problem with him," Billy responded coldly.

"Really?" the man's tone was incredulous.

_Uh oh._

"No. Now, are you going to order, sir, or not?" Billy asked testily.

"Look at it, though," the newcomer persisted, his eyes narrowed with disdain as he glared at Hank. "It's some kind of monster or something. How do we know he doesn't go around at night and-"

_That's it. I've had enough._

Something about watching Hank stand there quietly and taking that abuse made something snap inside of me. Maybe I should've sat back and let Hank handle it. But I couldn't, _wouldn't_ watch someone treat my husband like that without fighting back.

My feet moved forward of their own accord, until I was standing at his side.

Where I belonged.

_"There is many a monster who wears the form of a man; it is better of the two to have the heart of a man and the form of a monster_,_"_ I cut in, slipping my arm into Hank's and glowering at Baldy.

"Zoey-" Hank pleaded.

Usually I would defer to him, but not today. Not now.

Not when it felt like my veins were suddenly on fire, the flames aching to be released. Preferably right in this cretin's face.

_If he wants to start problems, I will finish them. With gusto._

"I think we can tell which category you fall into," I continued. "Especially considering how you walked in here and started insulting someone who was politely minding their own business. If he really was the 'monster' you claim him to be, he would've back-handed you across the room by now. You ought to be ashamed of yourself."

For a second the man just gaped at me, open-mouthed, like I'd slapped him. But then his expression morphed into one of disgust.

"_You're_ the one who should be ashamed," he hissed.

And then he spat at my feet.

For a moment I thought all hell was about to break loose. Hank's hand twitched, like he was about to grab the guy by the throat and toss him like a rag doll, but he managed to stop himself.

Instead his lips curled up, revealing his fangs as he growled through gritted teeth, "that was completely uncalled for. You need to apologize."

"Why don't you make me, monster?" Baldy countered.

"Alright, that's enough," Billy snapped. "Get out."

"Me?" the man asked blankly, completely shocked.

"Yes, you," Billy replied. "You're causing a disturbance. Now get out of my shop."

"But-"

_"Out,"_ Billy ordered. "Or do I need to call the cops?"

"Fine. But I'm definitely not coming back here again," the man spat out. "And I'll make sure to tell everyone I know to avoid your mutant-loving business from now on."

"You do that," Billy retorted coldly. "I don't want to serve ignorant bigots, anyway."

He spoke louder, so everyone else could hear clearly.

"And anyone _else_ who has a problem with mutants can leave now, too," he declared.

Baldy scoffed, spun on his heel, and stalked out the door, purposely knocking over a coffee bean stand on the way. The little bags went flying and scattered all over the floor.

I moved to pick up the mess, but Hank stopped me with a gentle hand on my arm.

"Go finish picking out your book, sweetheart," he said. His voice was controlled, but underneath I knew he was seething. "If you don't mind, I want to go home."

A tremor of unease passed over me. Was Hank mad at me for butting in?

I nodded mutely and went back to the bookcases.

It was only then, when I was out of sight, that I started to shake from leftover adrenalin. That man had made me _so_ angry. How could I not stand up to him for what he was saying to Hank?

But at the same time, I could understand why Hank might be upset with me... What if the confrontation had turned violent? The twins would've been in danger, and that was unacceptable.

The only source of solace was the fact that none of the other shop patrons took Billy up on his ultimatum. The only person who left while Hank was picking up the coffee beans seemed to have a kind word for him. So that was something, at least.

I didn't have the courage to ask Hank if he was mad at me until we were at home, eating dinner. He hadn't spoken much since the cafe. Instead of talking to me he was staring off into space with an expression that made me uneasy. What was he thinking about?

"What's wrong, darling?" I asked after we sat down to eat. "Are you mad at me?"

He blinked in surprise. "What? Of course not," he replied incredulously. "Why would I be?"

"Because I butted in and basically took over that entire situation instead of letting you handle it," I explained sheepishly. "_You_ may take that stuff lying down, but I can't."

"I'm not mad at you, Zoey," Hank assured me.

Instant relief.

Somewhat, anyway. That still didn't explain Hank's melancholy.

"Then what's wrong, Hank?" I pressed, getting ever more concerned. "Talk to me."

He looked down at his plate, not meeting my eyes. The fear that washed over me then made it feel like I was back in that FOH freezer, wondering if I would ever see my Hank again.

What was he hiding? Why was he brooding-?

And then it hit me- he was full of self-recrimination over what happened. He was hating himself for "putting me through that," even if I'd already known what I signed up for. And wondering if he could stand to watch.

Which meant my husband was thinking about leaving me, in some misguided attempt at nobility.

_No! I won't let you!_

It was Hank deciding what I "deserved," what frightened me, all over again. He had no right to tell me I was better off without him. Being apart was unacceptable- to _both_ of us.

"Don't you dare," I whispered, putting down the remains of my sandwich. I would've spoken louder, but I was sure I would cry if I attempted it. "Hank- don't you _dare_ hate yourself for any of this. I can handle it, so don't fret about that, ok? I'm not going anywhere, and you can't make me."

He nodded noncommittally, like he wasn't fully convinced.

I reached out and took his hand in mine, threading our fingers together.

This is how we were meant to be: connected, united. Nothing could tear us apart- not even Hank's silly notions about what was "best" for me. I wouldn't let this wonderful man walk out of my life.

I just had to convince _him_ of how amazing he was.

"You're worth it, you know," I told him earnestly. "All of it. I'm so proud of you, Hank. You're much stronger than you give yourself credit for. I mean, you were _amazing_ today. The way you just took it from that guy without lashing out? I know _I_ was a split second from lighting his hair on fire, but what you did, _that's_ the way to win people's hearts and minds."

His expression finally lightened a little. I pressed my advantage, finally putting forth an idea that had been rolling around in my head since Hank mentioned wanting to change the world for our twins.

"You know, I've been thinking," I began hesitantly. "You said you wanted to change the world, right? For our babies?"

"Yes," he agreed warily.

"Well, did you ever consider becoming an activist or a lobbyist for mutant rights?"

Hank blinked.

"Think about it, darling," I reasoned. "You're intelligent, kind, and honest. We could use more public figures like you, don't you think? _And_ you have a physical mutation. You'd be a perfect representative for mutants everywhere."

He didn't speak for a minute, which told me he was at least seriously considering it. I knew he would see the logic of my suggestion- I mean, the man was _perfect_ for the job. The only problem would be his own self-imposed limitations.

I believed Hank could do anything he put his mind to. No achievement was out of reach, if he tried. Getting him to actually _try_ was the hard part.

"Let's just focus on getting the people of this town to tolerate me, first," Hank murmured. "This was just one incident. There's no need to get ahead of ourselves."

_That's not a "no." That's a "maybe later." I'll take it!_

I nodded, acquiescing to his decision. I wasn't going to force him to do something he didn't want to do. And he wasn't ready for this.

Yet.


	28. Declaration

_Author's note: Thank you to partygirl98, NotMarge, anonymouscsifan, and kmj1989 for the reviews! And I'm back! Thanks for waiting for me, guys! Today's Zoey's take on the big meeting where she revealed herself as a mutant, hope you enjoy :-)_

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><p><strong>Declaration<strong>

It took a month, but eventually word started to circulate in the office that I was walking around town with a man who looked decidedly different from the shy, quiet husband who'd shown up with me at the company Christmas parties for years.

The secretaries of the members of my board were actually very good sources of information- they certainly deserved much more credit than their bosses gave them.

I had Gwen keep her ear to the ground, listening for any trouble from the board about the sudden change in Hank's appearance. She didn't even have to go searching for the information. It came to her in whispers, as all of the other ladies asked if Gwen could confirm or deny the rumors gaining traction among the office pool.

At first I did nothing about the rumors, having decided that my private business was just that: private. But eventually Gwen caught wind that Mr. Burton, my perennial enemy, was going to _make_ my private business an issue and use my "mystery man" in an attempt to try to maneuver me off the board.

Hank, of course, felt awful about the whole situation. No matter how many times I told him not to, he tended to blame himself when some sort of hardship arose stemming from his mutation.

The way he continued to beat himself up made the wheels in my brain start turning. I hated the way people looked at Hank like he was some sort of monster, but then judged me as a traitor to the human race because I could pass as "normal." But really, I was just as much a mutant as he was.

So when it came time for the problem with Burton to be addressed, I finally spoke to Hank about something I'd been debating for a long time.

"I'm thinking about telling them I'm a mutant, too," I told him one night, after explaining that I needed to call a board meeting to address the rumors.

It had been less than a week since we moved into our house, the house we would bring our babies home to after they were born.

"Why?" Hank asked blankly.

"Because I hate people looking at me like I'm 'normal,' like I'm betraying the human race," I replied. "I'm just as much a mutant as you, and I don't want to hide it anymore."

"B-but hasn't this been bad enough?" he sputtered. I knew he was talking about the stares and the sneers we already got. "Zoey, you could lose your company."

"Then I'll lose it," I retorted. "If I haven't been a good enough leader to keep that boardroom's loyalty despite what I am, I _deserve_ to lose it. I really want to do this, Hank."

He looked like he wanted to argue his point some more, but he held his tongue. I knew what he was thinking, though- he was such a pessimist about this sort of thing. Hank was afraid that I would lose everything my family had worked for over the course of five generations because of him.

I was glad he chose to defer instead of pressing his point, despite his strong feelings on the matter. I'm not sure if it was because he afraid that I would start crying randomly again, or if he'd simply resolved to support me, just as I did with his decisions.

Whatever the reason, at least we'd be going into this as a united front.

* * *

><p>"This has to be the craziest thing you've ever done," Hank muttered.<p>

"I would argue that inviting my borderline stalker into my apartment for dinner alone after speaking to him for only five minutes was much more insane," I retorted, grinning mischievously.

He winced at the playful jab, though I knew he wasn't really offended.

How could he be, considering how we ended up? Sure, we'd had a rather unorthodox beginning. But we could laugh about it now, couldn't we?

I sighed and became more serious, addressing the underlying concern behind his comment.

"They're going to find out eventually, Hank," I reasoned. "This is being proactive."

We were currently sitting in my office, waiting for the board of directors to gather down the hall for our big reveal meeting. I'd told Hank he didn't have to be here for this, but he had wanted to come anyway.

Secretly I was quite thankful for his quiet, steadfast support.

A quite knock sounded at the door at that moment, and Gwen poked her head in.

"Show time, boss lady," she announced, grinning. It didn't reach her eyes, despite her attempt to be her usual sarcastic, unflappable self.

"I wish you'd stop calling me that," I muttered as I got to my feet.

"Yeah I know. But it suits you."

I rolled my eyes at the lie- Gwen called me that to annoy me- and linked my arm in Hank's. "Ready?"

He nodded hesitantly in reply.

All three of us were silent until we reached the conference room door.

"Good luck, Zo," Gwen whispered, giving me a hug. "You can do this."

I smiled at her, trying to mask the tremor of fear I felt. "Thanks."

Isn't it strange, how you start to feel doubtful in your own abilities the moment someone expresses their faith in you? Almost like their support is a weight, making you even more frightened of letting them down than before.

But somehow I drew strength from looking up into Hank's big golden eyes. With him at my side, I felt like I could do anything.

I stood on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to his lips and took a deep breath.

_Here goes everything. Literally._

The members of the board all politely stood as I entered the room. Their eyes comically bugged out of their heads when they saw Hank. Both he and Gwen sat on chairs pushed up against the wall, situated perfectly for observation.

_It's show time._

"Good morning, gentlemen," I greeted them sweetly. "Please, take your seats."

I watched Burton exchange pointed glances with Ryan as they sat down.

Oh, how I wished I could fire that man! But my father always taught me to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. I preferred to have him under my employ, where I could keep my eye on him, rather than out causing trouble.

"I called this meeting because it's come to my attention that there's some dissension in the ranks," I announced calmly. "And I thought I would give all of you the opportunity to clear the air."

Complete silence.

No one was brave enough to speak up, even though they certainly were getting an eye-full of Hank. Mr. Evers, who had a rather nervous temperament, even startled slightly when Hank shifted in his chair- like he thought my husband was getting ready to jump at him.

I sighed and leaned against the back rest of my chair. I would wait them out if I had to. Knowing Burton, he'd try to use this meeting to his advantage.

But the reason I called this gathering before he did was to make sure he didn't have enough time to sow more seeds of discord within the other members against me. I was positive the only person he'd sounded out thus far was Ryan.

So I still had the upper hand. I just needed to keep it.

Sure enough, Burton spoke up first.

"Who's the mutant?" he asked, gesturing towards Hank.

"He's my husband," I replied immediately, with a loving glance that Gwen would probably barf over if we weren't in a serious meeting. "He had an accident that made his mutation express itself more strongly, but that doesn't change anything for me. He's still the best man a wife could ever ask for."

Hank smiled a little- that tiny, shy smile that lit up his eyes and made my stomach do somersaults. His skin was blue and his eyes were yellow now, but nothing had really changed.

_You can do this,_ his eyes seemed to tell me.

Maybe I could, but I needed to tread carefully. I spoke slowly, with deliberation, when I turned back to my board and started talking. There was an outline forming in my head- a way to win them over using both logic and emotion. Those, I've found, are always the most successful appeals.

_Step one: remind them of the success I've led them to._

"Seven years," I said quietly. "It's been almost seven years since my father died and left me this company. I'd like to think I've done a good job of it so far. I mean, our profits have more than tripled, we've diversified our holdings, become a Fortune 500 company... And all of you have become very rich men."

Everyone regarded me silently, like they were unsure of where I was going.

_Step two: appeal to nostalgia._

"I don't think _any_ of us expected it to go so well. I imagine some of you were just waiting for me to drop the ball somehow. Change is hard to accept, and in a way I can understand that," I mused, laughing softly. "I had a lot to live up to in your eyes, coming in here after my dad."

I didn't particularly relish using my father's memory in this way, but he had been very well respected by these men. And he'd picked me to pass on the business to. He could've set up a trust to run it for me, but no, he left it to me outright.

_Not_ these men. _Me._ And if the man they venerated could trust me like that, they should too.

"My father was a good man, a leader worthy of the respect you gentlemen gave him. I remember wondering if I would ever have the ability to command a board like he did, back when I was younger. I would sit there in the corner of this room and listen to your meetings during the summer. Do you remember that?" I asked, looking each man in the eye in turn.

_Step three: flattery and personal affection for me._

"You watched me grow up, from when I was a little girl until now. I know I would never have gotten this far if it weren't for all of you, and the trust you put, not only in my father's memory, but in _me_ as well," I said. "You've known me since I was a child, and I've led us to prosperity. So, with that in mind..."

_Here goes everything._

I cupped my hands together, forming a little flame bird in my palms. It took flight and flitted around the room for thirty seconds before it dissipated.

"I'm a mutant," I announced. "I have been, for my whole life. Does knowing that really change anything?"

All five of my board members were completely stunned into silence. Burton looked rather disgusted (which I'd rather expected), but Mr. James seemed almost amused (which I'd hoped for). It took several seconds for anyone to arrange their shock into words.

Burton jumped to his feet. "You're a freak!" he cried, glancing around at the others. It was like he was trying to stir the others up into a rebellion. "We can't let-"

"Oh, save it," Mr. James snapped, glowering at the other man. "The knowledge of Dr. McCoy being a mutant changes nothing. She's still the best CEO this company has ever had."

_Oh, shucks. You're going to make me blush, Mr. James._

"I agree," Mr. Green added quietly.

Burton turned to Ryan, his last hope. I'd gone into this knowing that Burton would be immovable- he was too set in his ways to change. Evers would bow to the prevailing wind, having no strong convictions of his own. Mr. Ryan, though, I prayed that I'd reached with my pleas-

"Dr. McCoy, did your father know you were a mutant?" Ryan asked carefully.

"Yes, sir."

I held my breath, waiting for his decision.

It all hung on Mr. Ryan. If he deferred, Evers would follow, and then Burton would be the lone wolf with no allies. My company, my _family's_ company, would be safe.

_Come on. Please, please-_

"And he still trusted you enough to leave this company to you. That's enough for me," Mr. Ryan announced.

_Yes! Take that, Burton! Haha! Yes yes yes!_

On the inside I was dancing jubilantly, singing in triumph. But I swallowed down the desire to gloat and said calmly, "thank you. Mr. Burton, do you still have any objections to my leadership? Moral or otherwise?"

Burton's face was an ugly shade of puce as he shook his head and retook his seat. It was difficult not to smile at his sudden fit of the sullens.

"Wonderful. Now, on to other business..."

I glanced back at Hank as the meeting progressed, and his expression almost made me blush with happiness. His pride in me was evident just from the look in his eyes.

_What's with the surprise, love? Didn't you know? Together, we can do anything._


	29. Intruder

_Author's note: Thank you to partygirl98, anonymouscsifan, NotMarge, and kmj1989 for the reviews! This installment covers quite a few chapters. We're almost done, it's so sad :-(_

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><p><strong>Intruder<strong>

I'd already known long ago that Hank was the most amazing man I was ever going to meet. The months following my big reveal to my boardroom only confirmed that.

Word got out about us after that day.

We were happily married, with good jobs and a lovely house- and we just happened to be mutants. The public, starting with our local community and slowly spreading from there, developed a sort of curious fascination with Hank and I. They wanted to know more about us, whether or not our lives were any different because we were mutants.

To my horror, we were suddenly inundated with requests for interviews by various news outlets.

And Hank, to my amazement, actually suggested that we give one.

"I've been thinking..." he said one night. "About what you said, about me becoming some sort of mutant activist. I know I told you I didn't want to- I'm not even sure if I _can_- but this is an opportunity that shouldn't be wasted. For the first time, people are open to learning about mutants. What if we can use this media attention to show them the truth about us? I'm not saying we'll succeed, but I want to at least _try._ We owe that to our children."

I thought my heart was going to explode right out of my chest, hearing him say that. My shy, sweet husband was going to throw himself to the mercy of public opinion for the sake of our children. He was, without a doubt, the bravest man I'd ever met.

The interview was probably the scariest thing I'd ever done- and that's coming from someone who recently escaped a kidnapping. But Hank performed brilliantly, and everyone knew it. Since then he'd been doing all sorts of interviews and editorials, trying to change the public's view of mutant kind.

It was almost like he was "nesting" right along with me. But while I focused on obsessively cleaning our house and rearranging the babies' room over and over again, Hank worked on making the world a safer place for our sea monkeys to be born into.

He was such a wonderful husband- always solicitous, attentive and sweet. He still made me feel beautiful even when I looked like a whale. And even though it felt like my identity was slowly fading into the babies in my belly with everyone else, Hank never lost sight of _me_. He always made sure I knew how much he loved me and appreciated me.

That being said, it was a joy to watch him "play" with the twins, to see the wonder in his eyes as they did back-flips and kick boxed (at least that's what it felt like, anyway) in my tummy. He was already a fantastic father, and the babies weren't even born yet.

I'd been making Hank want to tear his hair out with the cleaning and rearranging I'd been doing lately. I wanted everything to be _perfect_ for when the babies came, but my worrywart husband was terrified that I would hurt myself.

Eventually I decided to scale back a bit, because I was worried about his blood pressure. I stopped rearranging furniture and stuck to doing more manageable things.

Which was just as well- it was getting _really_ hard to walk now that my center of gravity was all off. It was all I could do to keep myself from slumping forward, trying to support the beach ball that was now my stomach, and it hurt my back terribly. If it weren't for Hank's massages I would've never survived my pregnancy.

I felt like the luckiest woman in the world, having him as my husband.

* * *

><p><em>Oh, I hope I can fit into you again one day, <em>I thought wistfully, holding up a dress to my body. It didn't even fully cover my belly anymore. _Ugh. It's like a shirt now._

I was busy cleaning out my closet today, waiting for Hank to come home from doing an interview for _60 Minutes_. I was looking forward to seeing the broadcast, even though he didn't like seeing himself on television. To be fair, I don't think anyone really does.

It was tough trying to figure out what things to keep and what to toss, just because I was finding it hard to imagine any of my normal clothes ever fitting again. My tummy had just been so huge for what felt like an eternity now. I felt like I was about to explode with baby.

But on the plus side, my stomach currently made an excellent shelf.

Despite my discomfort, I was having a decent day. I had music playing, I was being productive. Hank was due any minute, so in ten minutes or so I would go downstairs and start making dinner. Everything was fine.

So when the closet door clicked shut I thought nothing of it. Charlie liked to play with doors all the time. I just assumed he'd just pushed it too far until it completely closed this time, the silly boy.

_I'll just open it when I'm ready to go make dinner._

And I continued on with my reorganizing.

I didn't realize there was a problem until a few minutes later when I tried the closet door and found it _locked._

_What? Is it jammed?_

I jiggled the handle to no avail.

_Someone_ had locked me in- I mean, it certainly wasn't a cat that had done it. And never in my wildest dreams could I picture Hank pulling a joke on me like this, especially since he knew that one good baby kick into my bladder would send me waddling for the bathroom as fast as I could go.

Which meant... there was someone in my house.

I sent a fireball into my closet door, making a hole wide enough for me to stick my hand through so I could reach the handle and unlock it.

And then I was a pregnant woman on the warpath. If I'd learned anything from my kidnapping, it was that I was stronger than I thought I was- especially when it came to protecting my babies. And since Hank and I had "come out" as mutants to the world, it's not like I had to hide my powers anymore.

_Anyone up for barbecued intruder?_

I swept the second floor first, checking the rooms to make sure there was no one there. Finding no one, I headed downstairs-

Voices. I heard Hank's voice- and a woman's?

_Oh, he better have a good reason for this._

"-Kelly's not going to get the support necessary to get that bill passed unless mutants do something to provoke public outcry," Hank was saying as I came closer. "Violence is never the answer."

"Fine," the woman's voice retorted venomously.

Now that I was closer, I recognized her.

Raven Darkholme.

A horrifying scenario formed in my head- Raven, locking me in the closet so she could pretend to be me and mess with Hank's head. Though it was clearly over now, how long had the charade lasted? Had she fooled him? Had she _kissed_ him?

I felt dirty, unclean, just thinking about that horrible woman wearing my face.

"Be a blind fool," Raven hissed, "but don't say I didn't warn you. Just go back to being a dancing monkey in a suit, until the humans get tired of you. Then you'll just be an easy target. You, what's-her-face and your little Beast spawns'll be the first ones they nab-"

_Ok. I've had enough of you demeaning my husband's work, you poisonous harpy._

I stepped out into the kitchen entrance and threw a fireball with perfect precision at Raven's feet.

"That's enough of that," I snapped. I already had another projectile ready to go in my palm.

"That first one was a deliberate miss because you helped save me in April," I told her, going to stand by Hank.

His expression was a curious mixture of fear and admiration. I think he secretly liked it when I got angry- as long as it wasn't directed at him.

"But the next has your name on it if you don't get out of this house in the next five seconds. _No one_ speaks to my husband like that within my hearing."

_And__ you locked me in my own damn closet._

"And you owe me a new door."

"It was only what he needed to hear," Raven sneered. "All this talk of peace makes us look weak, and now the humans are taking advantage of that. We need to-"

There was no reasoning with this woman. And, though I pitied her blind hatred, I was too angry to listen to her spew her vile ideals. It was an antagonism too deep for screams and violence, just like with Nicholas Grey.

"You broke into my house, locked me up- I'm assuming so you could impersonate me to mess with Hank's head- and insulted my husband," I cut in calmly. "Now I'm tired, hungry, and _very_ hormonal. You've said what you wanted to say. So unless you want me to redecorate your face, I suggest you get the hell out of here."

Raven eyed me coldly, like she was debating on saying more.

I stared back unflinchingly, just _itching_ to throw my fireball in her vicious blue face. I was done trying to be polite to someone who was so rude and disdainful- she wasn't _worth_ my politeness.

She broke first, an ugly little smirk on her face. Raven rolled her eyes and set off for the front door, morphing into a workman on the way.

And then she was gone.

Both Hank and I let out deep exhales at the exact same time. I let my fireball flicker out.

"You ok?" Hank asked gently, pulling me into his arms.

"No," I muttered, rubbing my forehead absently. "She pretended to be me, didn't she?"

"Yes," he replied.

_Ugh._

Had she fooled him? The idea that my husband wouldn't recognize an impostor was deeply unsettling. My skin crawled at the thought, and my mind ran away from me, imagining horrible, horrible things-

Hank's eyes searched mine as he pulled away slightly. "I knew it wasn't you immediately, though," he said.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. She was eating my ice cream, she called me 'baby,' and I could smell she wasn't pregnant," he explained with a shrug. "And... I just _knew_. I looked at her and there was no... no pull, I suppose. No connection. Not like what I feel when I look at you, or you look at me."

_Ok, I feel better now._

I snuggled against him- or at least as much as I could, considering the humongous baby bump in the way. But still, I felt much better. Our love was too strong for anyone to touch.

Including shape shifters with sinister intentions.

"Why was she here?" I asked, my voice muffled by his shirt. "Besides to be a nuisance, I mean."

Hank quickly told me what Raven had said. Namely, that that bastard Robert Kelly was planning on putting forth a piece of legislation called the Mutant Registration Act, which would force all mutants to register and out themselves to the public.

He didn't say it, but I could hear an echo of guilt in Hank's explanation. He was blaming himself for Kelly's bill. I couldn't say I was surprised- Hank always blamed himself for things that weren't really in his control. It was just his nature.

"This isn't your fault, Hank," I soothed.

"It certainly feels that way," he replied bitterly. "All of us were safe in relative obscurity for the most part, and then I had to go and stir up trouble."

"You mean _'we.'_ I'm the one that stood up in front of my boardroom, remember? Don't pretend you acted alone in this," I retorted. "Hank, what you said to Mystique is true- Kelly won't get the support he needs without provocation. He's just one lawmaker who probably would've come up with something hateful without you raising awareness anyway."

I reached up and cradled my man's beautiful face between my hands.

"The only thing you've done is opened people's eyes to the humanity in all of us mutants, and shown there's more good than bad. You can't let him stop you, darling."

"I don't see how I can fight legislation like this," he confessed in an agonized tone.

"Neither do I," I admitted.

_Wait-_

"But I think I have an idea on where to start."

And then we set to work.

Together.


	30. Come Home to Me

_Author's note: Thank you to NotMarge, partygirl98, and kmj1989 for the reviews! Short chapter today, because we're gearing up for when the poo hits the proverbial fan. But first, a sweet moment._

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><p><strong>Come Home to Me<strong>

"That's why Raven came to warn me. She and Erik want me to bring a bunch of mutant protesters along for when they try to start a war," Hank explained.

"So what are you going to do?" I asked worriedly.

I'd listened to his theory of Raven's motives silently, trying to contain the growing fear deep in my gut. The X-Men were sure of their reasoning, to my dismay.

_I think I liked it better when we decided Raven was just trying to be annoying and rude._

"I'm assuming you're not going to go along with their plan?" I guessed.

"No. We're going to Kelly's speech, to make sure the Brotherhood doesn't succeed. If Erik shows up Alex will blast him. That should give me enough time to reach him and take off his helmet so Charles can immobilize him."

I shifted uncomfortably. I didn't like this plan- it was so amorphous and full of holes. There were so many factors unaccounted for, so many things the X-Men didn't know.

"I want to come with you," I blurted out.

Hank stared at me incredulously, like he couldn't believe what I'd just said.

_Ok, maybe I get why._

I wasn't exactly in fighting shape at the moment- if I'd ever been, really. But I was eight weeks from my due date and could barely even walk. There was no way Hank would let me go, especially when Dr. Stevenson had warned us that with twins premature labor was a definite possibility.

"You can't, darling," Hank said gently, after a moment's consideration. "It's too dangerous."

I couldn't help arguing the point.

"But-"

He shook his head, resolute for once. Hank usually folded like a lawn chair whenever I asked for anything, meaning denials were rare. I might've been a little spoiled.

"No. I'm sorry, Zoey, but I can't let you come," he said firmly. "I won't let you risk yourself _or_ our children that way."

_I know. But what about __you__? I can't risk losing you._

Unbidden tears started in my eyes.

_Ugh. Crying again? I hate being a leaking hose._

"I know you won't. I know I can't go," I admitted. "But I'm scared for you, Hank. So much could go wrong, I wouldn't be able to-"

"A lot could go wrong," Hank admitted. "But we have to take that chance. There's no other way, and I'm going to do everything I can to keep you and the twins safe. I _have_ to."

To uneducated ears, his declaration may have sounded a little chauvinistic. But I knew better than that. It wasn't that he thought of me as weak or anything. With Hank, protecting the twins and I was biological, a fundamental part of his character. It was just part of who he was.

As much as he hated to tell me "no," he was doing this for us- the twins and I. _Everything_ he'd done in the past few months was to give our children a better future, and now Hank was going to go into a potentially dangerous situation to _save_ that future. Not because he wanted to, but because he _had_ to.

There was no need to make him feel even worse about it.

I squeezed my eyes shut and quickly wiped away the tears that threatened to spill out. I shook my head in exasperation. "Ugh, I _hate_ being so weepy!" I grouched, trying to lighten the mood. I smiled at him. "I hate being _that_ girl who turns into a puddle of tears, you know? But at least these kids are worth it."

_Worth the emotional roller coaster. Worth all of the hard work you've done. Let's face it- you can't stop now._

I took a deep breath.

"You do what you have to do, Hank."

He chuckled, just as I'd hoped for, and pulled me in for an embrace. Feeling his claws stroking my hair, being enveloped in his arms... For a just a moment I could believe that everything was alright.

"I'll come home to you," Hank murmured, pressing a sweet kiss to my forehead. "I promise."


	31. Zoey's Worst Nightmare

_Author's note: Thank you to NotMarge, partygirl98, kmj1989, and anonymouscsifan for the reviews! Anonymous, I hope everything's ok! High drama today. Hope you guys like it!_

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><p><strong>Zoey's Worst Nightmare<strong>

Isn't it funny, the way time seems to speed up when you have an event you're dreading looming on the horizon? Just when you want the days to last forever, time goes into overdrive.

That's how it felt in the days leading up to Senator Kelly's speech. It was like I could blink, and another day was gone. Another day closer to the start of a possible war.

Before I knew it, Hank was kissing me goodbye and leaving me with Billy and Marceline for the day while he went to Albany. Chloe, Olivia, Maeve, and baby Theresa would be coming by later so all of us could watch the broadcast of the speech.

Hank had asked everyone to stop by and keep me company because he knew how nervous I was and wanted me to have a distraction. My sweet, thoughtful husband.

The way he looked at me right before he left... I could sense his anxiety, his reluctance to leave. Hank was only doing this because he had to. It reminded me of my promise to myself not to make this more difficult for him.

_Hold it together, McCoy._

"I love you," Hank told me, with a thorough kiss. He hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. "I'll see you tonight, Zoey."

_He can't bear to say "goodbye,"_ I realized with a pang.

"You better," I replied.

I was tired, scared out of my mind, and in almost agonizing pain because my back was killing me, but I still mustered up a smile for him.

It was only when he left that I finally burst into helpless, gut-wrenching tears.

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><p>I hid in the bathroom from Marceline and Billy until I finally calmed myself down again.<p>

"Are you alright, _ma petite_?" Marceline asked when I reappeared. "You were in there for an awfully long time."

"I felt the need to pee but nothing would come," I lied. It was a totally reasonable explanation though, considering the circumstances.

"Ok," she said, clearly still worried. "Why don't you sit down? I'll get you some tea."

"Thanks," I replied gratefully.

I hated being waited on, but right now, with everything falling to pieces (including myself- my back was _really_ hurting, and my stomach was cramping from worry), I just needed the comfort of my mother-figure taking care of me while I watched the final episode of _Star Trek: The Animated Series._

Soon after that Chloe, Olivia, Maeve and Theresa showed up, so we switched the channel to the broadcast of the run-up to Kelly's speech.

It was considered a major event, so even though it wasn't going to start for another hour they were already showing a live feed of the park where it would take place.

"Whoa," Maeve whispered.

_"Whoa," indeed._

The little park was already crawling with people. There were news vans full of reporters, police officers, protesters holding picketing signs, and other people just milling around waiting for the speech to start.

It seemed that despite the lack of encouragement, people had felt the need to turn out and express their opinions about Kelly's prospective bill.

My friends made comments on the size of the crowd and what it meant for mutant rights, but my thoughts strayed from the conversation.

Part of me was thrilled and extremely proud of Hank. It was because of him that so much awareness had been raised. He'd given mutants a voice, and the American people had clearly _listened_. All of his efforts had paid off, and I was proud of him for taking a stand for our kind.

But another part of me saw each and everyone of those spectators in the park as potential victims. What would happen when Magneto showed up? Would the mutants in the crowd listen to him? Would a riot break out? A _war_?

I cursed that man to hell and back. Why couldn't he see that both sides would lose if he started a war? It would be the _definition_ of a no-win situation.

_Hank... the twins... Olivia... we'd all be the enemy._

My stomach twisted in knots at the thought, like my mental anguish was manifesting itself physically.

_Ugh. Cut it out._

I guess I should've been used to the general sense of discomfort by now, considering all of the gymnastics the twins had been doing lately-

Actually, they'd been rather quiet today...

"Are Hank and the others there yet?" Chloe asked, breaking into my train of thought. She peered at the television closely.

"Nope," Olivia replied. "No tall furry guy in sight. He's going to stick out like a big-"

"There he is," Marceline cut in, pointing to a van that had just pulled up at the edge of the park.

Sure enough, the news camera focused on my husband as he helped Charles out of the back of the van. Moira and Gwen hopped out too, carrying picketing signs. Sean and Alex quickly followed.

The newscaster started to prattle on about Hank's activism.

_"And it looks like Dr. Hank McCoy just arrived. Viewers will remember his interview with Morley Safer of 60 Minutes just this last weekend. He-"_

I could only think,_ "how surreal is this?"_ watching my husband on television being approached by the members of the crowd. Their expressions were open, welcoming, _thankful_. They all wanted to shake his hand, to pat him on the shoulder.

_Oh, Hank..._

"Uncle Hank's like a celebrity now!" Olivia crowed.

"The kid looks so uncomfortable," Billy chuckled. "He doesn't know how to handle the attention."

"He's not used to it, Bill," Marceline scolded. "Think of how often people ignore him or say terrible things to him- _ma petite_, why are you crying?"

I wiped my eyes hurriedly and felt amazed when my hands came back wet. "I'm just so _proud_ of him," I whispered. "And happy that he's finally getting the recognition he deserves. I wish- I wish I was there with him-"

Because Billy was right- Hank _did_ look very uncomfortable. My poor darling.

None of us spoke as we watched Hank and the other X-Men move through the crowd to stand front row center. Moira and Gwen had broken away to go stand with the other picketers. It felt like we were all holding our collective breaths, waiting to see what would happen.

Finally a press secretary came out to introduce Senator Kelly to the crowd, trying to drum up some enthusiasm for his boss.

He failed miserably. Kelly took the lectern to a chorus of boos- there were even some "bleeped" comments being yelled from the audience. I almost laughed.

"Thank you, thank you," Kelly said, with a gentility that somehow made my skin crawl.

_Slimy politician._

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen," he began. He paused for dramatic effect before continuing. "Mutants. They _are_ among us-"

"No duh," Olivia muttered.

"Livie, hush," Chloe scolded.

"What? Uncle Hank's standing _right there-_"

"-These are people who have unnatural abilities, abilities that are a threat to every man, woman and child in this beautiful country. Super strength, shape-shifting, the ability to start fires- what's to stop these mutants from breaking into a bank, or impersonating the president, or burning down a home? Burning down _our_ homes?"

He paused again, taking a moment for his rhetoric to sink in.

"The same thing that stops a human from grabbing a book of matches and doing the same damn thing!" someone in the crowd shouted. "Common decency!"

_Here, here. Someone go give that guy a cookie._

Several other audience members whistled to show their agreement.

Senator Kelly looked discomfited- he clearly hadn't expected the crowd to contain hecklers.

_Surprise! People are not idiots, Senator._

"Th-the point is, these _mutants_ are dangerous. And I think the American people deserve the right to decide if they want their children to be in school with mutants. To be taught by mutants. To sit next to them on the bus! Ladies and gentlemen, we must know who these mutants are, and above all, what they can do!"

There was a smattering of applause in the audience, probably from the FOH members in the crowd, but mostly Kelly's rabble-rousing was met with silent disapproval.

"I'm proposing a piece of legislation called the Mutant Registration Act. It will require all mutants to notify the government what their powers are and to wear an identifying-"

But we never got to find out what mutants would be required to wear, because at that moment the microphone began to vibrate uncontrollably, cutting Senator Kelly off.

_Oh no-_

The stage's red cloth backdrop then blew backwards, along with all of the people standing on it. They collapsed in a heap behind the curtain, while at the same time the police officers began to make wild grabs at their firearms, which were rising into the air of their own accord-

And aimed themselves at the crowd.

Had we expected something like this to happen? Yes. But seeing it on television, being helpless to stop any of it, was a horror beyond words.

Some people screamed and tried to get away, but the guns fired a few warning shots without any visible operator. Everyone ducked and cowered away from the threat, a huge mass of people on the verge of stampede.

My companions might've been screaming at the television, but I couldn't hear. There was just an odd buzzing noise in my ears instead.

Even as Erik Lehnsherr, wearing his helmet and cape, floated down onto the stage with a smug grin on his face, my eyes stayed on Hank. He was unmistakable with his height and fur. Magneto started talking-

Hank, Alex, and Sean all dropped to the ground, out of sight.

_No! What-?_

I reflexively stood, as if the change in height would affect my ability to see where my husband went on screen. Where was he? What happened to make all three of them fall like that-?

_Oh God, Hank. Please-_

"-To my mutant brothers and sisters out there, I say this: no more hiding. You have lived in the shadows in shame and fear for too long. Let this be a new tomorrow, that starts today!" Erik finished.

He began to turn towards the men on the stage behind him-

And then a red streak of light hit him, right in the chest. He collapsed like a rag doll.

_Alex. Which means-_

Hank sprang into sight then, giving me a moment's reprieve. He was ok!

He jumped onto the stage in one leap and ripped Magneto's helmet off.

_Thank God thank God thank God._

I vaguely noticed the guns that had been floating in the air falling down into the waiting hands of the policemen. Several of them then took to the stage to tackle Magneto.

But mostly I kept my eyes on Hank, who was watching the metal-bender with disgust.

Because I was watching him so intently I saw the horror twist his expression as he turned towards someone else on the stage. I followed his gaze-

A flash of blue and scarlet on the platform caught my eye.

It was Raven, holding a gun aimed straight for Kelly's head.

Another streak of blue, flying over the heads of everyone else on the stage, as Hank launched himself at her. He was trying to save that despicable man.

Because of who he was. Because he had to.

A loud gunshot sounded on the stage, causing several people in the audience to scream.

Hank, my husband, my _love_, slumped over-

And then the news feed cut out.

_No! What happened?_

_Hank! Please be ok, God- I need him, our babies need him-_

A twisting, soul-wrenching pain went through my heart.

No, not my heart. Lower than that.

Suddenly I was standing in a puddle of water.

_What?_

It was like the volume finally turned back on just then, a kaleidoscope of sound rushing back so quickly I wanted to clamp my hands over my ears.

Screaming. Someone was screaming.

_Who-?_

It took me a few seconds to realize it was me.


End file.
